


Like A Promise

by orphan_account



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Angst, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-03-30 23:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 38,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3956488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College/University AU<br/>Your fictional characters' romantic history rewritten; their college days merged into one beautiful mess.<br/>A lot of fluff at first, but things will get tragic. And heated.<br/>I suck at summaries and tagging. Forgive me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A shout-out to Kristine, without whose encouragement I would never have had the guts to keep this up. ♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallo, Katie! Happy birthday to you. Thanks for everything. :D ♥

 

Oliver gripped his cellphone to his ear as he talked—yelled, spat—to his best friend Tommy. He was standing on the lot of the Delta Gamma Tau house, his eyes scanning the seemingly empty building. The lights were on, but the absence of drunken youngsters and party lights made Oliver hesitate to knock on the door.

"Ollie!" Tommy slurred. "I told you: Delta  _Kappa_  Tau! Just get your ass back in your car and drive 'ere, you're not gonna get laid out there!"

Oliver hung up and shoved the phone back into his pocket. He jogged back to his car, slamming the door when he got in, and drove.

In no less than two minutes, he caught sight of the fraternity house. It was obvious that this one was it, what with the long lines of cars parked along the street, the lights of neon from inside that shot out through the windows, and a few drunken bunch of students passed out on the porch.

He was late. He was very late.

Just as he was pulling toward and empty curb,—the only one that was near enough to the house— an ugly, old, red Camry beat him to it. Annoyed, he punched the car horn button.

Gritting his teeth, he settled for the space two lots from the venue. He caught sight of a woman stepping out of the driver's seat of the red car, and hell yes he was already hatching a plan on how to intimidate the shit out of her. She was small. Small frame, a little muscle. She wore a peach halter top and dark tight jeans, her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail.

Her head was down, putting her eyeglasses on as she headed toward the house, and Oliver caught up with her tiny steps.

"You took my parking spot."

She jumped, turning to face him, and all the fight left Oliver. A pair of blue eyes looked up at him from behind her eyeglasses, and at first her expression was a kind of an innocent surprise, but almost immediately her face fell into a frown.

"What?"

"The parking space," he said, nodding towards her car's direction. His height defined just how small she was, and he leaned closer. She, however, glared at him, standing her ground. "You knew I was going to take it, but you went for it anyway."

"Oh, you want me to apologize?" She leaned back, eyebrow arched up with a feigned smile. "Fine. I'm sorry I didn't see your name on it."

Turning her back on him, she started toward the house.

Oliver stood frozen, dumbfounded by her reaction. Okay, call him an egotistical jerk, but this had barely ever happened before. Usually women threw themselves at him, desperate for his attention. Only on rare circumstances did he need to make the first move, like with Laurel, but soon after, they fell to his charms. They all did.

It would've been easy to let it slip if it was plain indifference, but this girl seemed to  _loathe_  him. He was sure he was a complete stranger to her,— he would easily have remembered her face, he wasn't going to lie that she was pretty— and yet she already treated him with total resentment. Her lack of interest poked at his ego in a way he couldn't explain, but instead of annoyance, he felt something else.

She was beautiful and uninterested. He felt a challenge coming.

"OLLIE!" Tommy's voice boomed from the door as the girl was getting in. His arms were outstretched as he spoke, a red cup in one of his hands. He staggered a little as he stood, eyes hazy from the alcohol. "Come in and party with all these nerds! The chicks have been waiting for you!"

To that, Oliver obliged. He stepped into the dark house illuminated by party lights of green, red and yellow. The music blared from the large speakers, making it impossible for Oliver to hear whatever his best friend was saying. In what he figured was the living room was an improvised dance floor. The air reeked of alcohol cigarette, and the sweat from the entangled bodies dancing and drinking their hearts out.

He made his way to the drinks, half listening to Tommy's slurred stories and half glancing around trying to find Little Miss Parking Space.

Delta Kappa Tau was a fraternity house of students at MIT, and MIT was a school for the tech whiz and the nerd, which was why it had surprised Oliver to see the place in full swing, with what looked like more or less a hundred students from different schools.

He just stood there by the keg, trying to catch up to his best friend's drunkenness, when she came into view. She was sitting on the edge of a couch minding her own business, staying as far as possible from the couple on there making out. Her face was lit up by the light from a laptop settled on her lap, her focus zeroed on whatever she was working on _._

Without thinking, Oliver took another cup and filled it halfway with beer, and then he crossed the room toward her.

She looked up just in time to see him approaching. She did a double take, as if disbelieving that he was there. He grinned and slid next to her.

Oliver nudged her elbow with his, and handed her the drink, expecting her to hit him with the laptop or tell him to go away. To his surprise, though, she accepted it. He didn't think she would cave that easy.

She didn't speak, arching an eyebrow at him in suspicion. She took a quick glance at the inside of the cup.

Oliver chuckled. "Relax. I wouldn't drug you."

"So you  _do_  drug girls. . ."

"Let me rephrase that: I don't drug anyone  _at all._ "

A small laugh escaped her pink lips. It took Oliver everything in him not to entertain the sudden urge he felt to kiss her right then and there.

Alcohol. It was the alcohol.

He took a sip of his drink, and then switched the cup in her hand with the one in his. "There. Feel better?"

"Thanks," she muttered, looking back at the screen. She took a gulp of her beer and settled the cup on the table beside the couch, and Oliver could only watch as she brought her hands back to work on the keys with breakneck speed.

Noticing her silence, he leaned away, resting his elbows over his knees. It bothered him that he was making her uncomfortable, and it bothered him more that he cared. For a second there, he was afraid she'd leave if he pushed his luck, but he forced the thought out of his head. Those weren't his normal thoughts. Normal thoughts would be finding her a waste of his time. But for the life of him, he could not.

"What are you doing?" he asked after seeing what he figured were codes running across the computer screen.

"I am fixing Gail Pearson's laptop. She had it infected with a virus." A a few more keystrokes, a wide grin broke across her lips. "Piece of cake." She folded the device shut, looking proud of herself.

Oliver felt a twinge inside of him, and before he knew it, he was smiling at her. Because damn it if her grin wasn't the most adorable thing he had ever witnessed. "So you didn't come here to get drunk?"

Again with her angelic smile. "I came here to get paid. I'm the school tech geek of the tech geeks. And they forget how to count when they're drunk, so that's a plus," she told him with a wink. She straightened her back, neck craning as she searched the room. She stood up, finishing what was left of her beer, and faced him.

Oliver got to his feet as well. He stared as she fiddled her fingers with he edge of the laptop, as if she wanted to say something.

Her eyes softened. "I'm sorry. About earlier. That was kind of rude."

"Yeah, what was that about?"

She shrugged indifferently, but the way she recoiled and flinched when she met his eyes gave her away. In a house full of people he assumed she knew, it was ironic how she looked like she needed someone to talk to. Didn't this girl have friends?

After a sigh, she turned, heading for the stairs. Realizing what she was up to, Oliver reached for her arm. "Whoa, whoa, you're leaving?" She paused midstep, her eyes darting to his hand. He didn't pull it back even after she raised an eyebrow at him. "You just got here."

"I know. I wasn't even invited, I just..." She held up the laptop. "Duty calls."

She continued walking, and they got back to the room with the booming speakers. From across the room, Oliver saw Tommy with a bunch of girls giggling at whatever idiotic things he was probably saying. His best friend caught his eye, throwing a glance at the shorter blonde (he  _really_  needed to know her name), and then mouthed at Oliver a very confused,  _What the hell?_

An ash-blond woman stepped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. She gave him a lewd smile, hands tugging at his shirt. Her breath smelled like beer, vomit and cheese—not a very pleasant combination. It made his stomach turn.

"So you're the famous Ollie Queen? I'm Blair. Tommy's told me so much about you." Her voice, on the other hand, made his ears recoil.

From behind Blair, another woman came into view. "Ollie," she purred, caressing his abdomen. "There's a bed upstairs."

Oliver stood impatiently, mentally cursing Tommy. He stepped back the second Blair leaned to kiss him, and due to her drunken state, she fell off balance. He caught her before she could hit the ground, lifted her upright and left.

Soon enough, he realized that he left the women, along with the no-strings-attached fun and action they could have provided—the very thing he had originally come here for. But he couldn't bring himself to feel sorry. The task at hand right now was to find Miss Parking Space.

And then what? Talk? Just talk? He had no idea. But he sure as hell wanted to find out.

One minute she was next to him and now she was way ahead of him, on at the foot of the stairs. He caught up to her, shouldering past whoever was in the way. He jogged next to her and he leaned forward, bringing his lips close to her ear. From that position he learned how amazing she smelled. 

Fighting the urge to close the distance between his lips and her skin, he asked, "Can't you stay?"

"What?" she shouted over the music, and he leaned back when she faced him.

"I was asking if you could stay!"

She shook her head. Party lights lit her face up in shades of red and purple. "I can't!"

"Why not?"

"I've got work tomorrow morning!"

Of course. He nodded, subduing the utter disappointment he felt. The longer time he spent with this good girl, the more he felt drawn, as if there was something about her luring him to her. He blamed it all on the irresistible pink of her lips and the scent of her skin, as if every inch of her was begging to be touched.

The alcohol was one thing. But she was just so damn beautiful it was almost impossible to look away. It was understandable how a handful of men checked her out as she made her way through, but that didn't stop the irrational protectiveness bubbling up in Oliver.

In silence they walked up the stairs, and he stopped when she turned to face one of the bedroom doors in the hall.

He eyed her teasingly, and blood filled her face.

"Look, I don't know what you want and why you're following me, but that is  _not_ what I went here for," she blurted out defensively.

He grinned. "I didn't say anything!"

"Yes, but your eyes are doing the celebratory pre-coital look." She winced, backtracking. "3...2...1." She opened her eyes, smiling politely at him. "I mean, I hate to disappoint you, but I didn't come her for sex. I came here," She raised the laptop to his face, "to give this to Gail. And then I'm out."

Oliver laughed, eyes shining with amusement. He didn't look away from her, as if he was counting how many seconds the red would last on her face. She knocked on the door averting his stare.

That was when he realized, at some point from the moment they met, up to now as he looked at her face, he began to like her. And he liked her more every second that passed. As scary as that was, he couldn't bring himself to leave.

The door flew open.

" _Smoke!_ " a tall, drunk brunette wearing thick, wide glasses exclaimed from the room, flinging her arms around the little blonde. She staggered as she stood, alcohol reeking from her breath. "You're here! I thought you were bailin' on me."

Smoke? What kind of a nickname was Smoke? 

She smiled politely, and handed Gail her laptop. The latter squealed, "You really fixed it! You're a computer goddess, Smokey, I love you!"

Smoke (that just sounded wrong, honestly) folded her arms over her chest. "Yeah, pay up, Gail."

Gail giggled. "Of course! I'm giving you a tip for being so quick," She looked at me, pointing at Smoke. "She worked on it last time for, like, one minute! She's an angel." She dug into her purse and handed Blondie two hundred-dollar bills.

With a wink at him, she slid the money into her pocket. Once again, Gail gave her a hug. "I just love you, Smokey, you are a miracle."

They stepped away from each other and the door shut. Smoke faced Oliver with a wicked grin of a winner. "Told 'ya."

They walked side to side, from the hallway upstairs to the front door, with Oliver's eyebrows furrowing in curiosity. Just when he was about to ask her her name, she wheeled around and faced him.

"I'm just curious —when are you going to stop following me?"

"When I'm sure I'm going to see you again," he answered before he could think. On a normal day, that kind of retort would have made him cringe, but not tonight. Not now that he was seeing how it made her expression soften.

Hiking her eyebrows, she chuckled, her smile a mix of surprise and amusement. "You're not. After this encounter of ours, you're gonna score one of those girls who've been staring at you for the past how many minutes, and then you're going back to wherever you came from." She gave him a wink. "I've dealt with frat boys before."

He blinked, stunned at her bluntness. He should probably have expected it from her. "You shoot guys down this soon?"

"Better now than later. I'm not interested."

"The rejection is clear, Miss...?"

She paused, contemplating, but then she held out her hand. "Felicity."

A wave of relief washed over him. Or was it something else? Whatever. But he was relieved anyway, learning that she had a name that suited her. He wrapped her hand in his.

"Felicity," he repeated, and a hundred times more in his mind. "I'm Oliver."

"And here I was beginning to think I'd have to call you 'Ollie', too."

He chuckled. "Don't. I'm sure you hate nicknames too."

She snorted, rolling her eyes. When she pulled back her hand, his heart stung a little.

"I have to go." Without more than a wave of her hand, she turned and went out, closing the door shut behind her.

He could have gone and chased after her (and believe him, he wanted nothing more than to do so), but if there was a handbook in increasing your chances of seeing a girl again, there would only be one, general rule: Don't overdo it.

 

 

* * *

 

Oh and hey, say hi to me on tumblr: [supernovascreenlight](http://supernovascreenlight.tumblr.com/). :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk to me. Did you like it? I'd love to hear what you think. :)
> 
> Love, Bea. ♥


	2. Chapter 2

 

"I didn't forget to pay you, did I?" Gail grumbled, a hand flying up to the shades sitting askew on her nose. She spoke weakly, as if she was dozing off right then, leaning on the lockers to her side.

"You didn't forget," Felicity reassured her, rotating the combination at her locker.

The brunette's head fell to her side, eyes closing. "I want to sleep."

Felicity frowned when her fingertips kept slipping on the teeth of the padlock's dial. "I just have to ask you: It's four in the afternoon. How could you possibly still feel sleepy?"

"It's called punishment," Gail groaned. "I drank so much. Based on the pictures on my phone, we were up until three."

"And how are you planning to attend classes looking like that?"

She snorted. "Simple: I walk in and pass out on my desk." With limp arms, she pulled her messed-up hair in a ponytail. "I don't wanna stay in dorm, my roommate's got a boyfriend who's got a sick obsession on weird sex." She shuddered. "I would very much rather sleep uncomfortably on a school desk than stay in bed and listen to them." Some sort of a hopeful smile formed across her face. "Hey, how about you make me a really, heavy-duty sound-proof earmuffs? You could do that, right?"

"Ask the Engineering Department. They'd know more about acoustics." Felicity muttered to her and pulled her locker door open, shoving inside the books she held.

"Hey, I remember seeing you with a guy last night," Gail said with a coy grin. "D'the night turn out to be fun for you too?"

Felicity raised an eyebrow. "A guy?"

"I don't remember his face or anything. I just know he had man parts. . . . Last night—when you gave me back the laptop."

It clicked. Gail was talking about the man whom Felicity kind of met/kind of hated/kind of liked/but mostly hated last night. "Oh," Felicity said, wracking her brain for a name. "He wasn't with me. I mean, he was with me _technically_."

"And?"

". . . I don't remember his name. But we didn't do anything fun. We didn't do anything at all."

Gail sighed, shaking her head. "You should really learn to let off some steam, Fliss."

"You mean signing up for a Fight Club? Yeah, I think I'd need that."

Gail was about to speak, but the sound of a "Hey!" from a frat guy beside them diverted their attention.

"My man!" the guy called, eyes on whoever was approaching. A fit of giggles broke out from the group of girls from across them.

Out of curiosity, along with a self-bet that it was either something very shallow or something close to impending doom, Felicity craned her neck to look at their line of sight. She saw a familiar man walking through the sea of students, hands in his pockets and a signature playboy charmer smile in place.

His eyes landed on her, which led to more pairs of eyes targeting her. She wanted to run. Alright, this was impending doom.

"You know him, Fliss?" Gail asked with an elbow nudge to Felicity, nodding at the guy's direction. "He's kinda hot, but he's looking at you like you're some target. . . . And that he thinks he's got a clear shot."

Felicity looked at Gail with a scowl. "He's wrong." She shut her locker and flung the strap of her bag over one shoulder. "I have to leave," she blurted out. She turned to the way opposite from his, and began to trudge her way through the sea of students.

She didn't like being stared at, and she didn't like being stared at by a whole other bunch of people  _because_  she was being stared at by someone specific.

"Felicity!" he called, and at the sound of his voice, she froze. Finally, she remembered.

 _This_  was Oliver. Last-night's-party Oliver. And in that moment, she was at a loss on how to react. Was she supposed to smile? Was he supposed to greet her? What the hell, she was minding her own business. . . .

He jogged to her side and stopped to stand in front of her. She blinked at him. He flashed a grin that Felicity supposed sealed the deal with his typical chicks. Well, not with her it wouldn't.

The murmurs growing louder around them snapped her back to reality. She began to hear the words "hook up," "make out," and "party." She rolled her eyes and then continued walking, planting her sight on the piece of paper her Programming professor gave her. Written on it were codes that probably only she understood.

From a peripheral view, she noticed him keeping pace with her. "Are we friends?"

"Hello to you too."

She slid the paper into her bag pocket, keeping her face forward and expression unaffected. "You know, I'm not very much against making friends with playboy billionaires but if being stared at and gossiped about by a swarm of imbeciles are part of the package, then I might have to reconsider it."

Peering up at him, she saw his charmer smile fade, only to be replaced by another one. A genuine one. His eyes shone in amusement.

She looked ahead again, careful. A thought crossed her mind. "Do you even go to this school?"

He chuckled. "No I don't."

She leaned her head back, eyebrows furrowing. "Then how—?"

"Connections, Smoak. Connections."

"Frat brothers?"

"Yep."

"Your frat brothers know me," she muttered. "Do I even want to hear what amazing stories they must've told you. . . ."

He didn't answer, and again, he smirked. Her stomach sank.

She paused midstep, and faced him with a glare, a finger pointing at his chest. "Stay the hell away from me."

His smile faded, grasping the seriousness she shot at him. She gritted her teeth and left.

You see, in this school and among her batch, Felicity wasn't famous for the noblest of things. Her family history, her origin, her recent fallout with her ex. . . . Those things weren't a joke, but those were things that pretty much everyone chose to ridicule. They were things she wasn't really ashamed of, but preferred not to be brought up not only because it was painful to even think of them, but also because of the different versions that different mouths had made on them over time.

Now, if Oliver here had heard the several different versions along with misogynistic additives by his frat brothers, then he was here to get after one thing. And if he believed those stories, and saw her to be someone that low, then she could see no reason why she should keep talking to him.

Slowly, the crowd thinned as the students got to their classes. Moments later, the halls went almost empty, with only five people in them, including her.

And Oliver, apparently. He caught up to her. "Felicity. . . ," he said, his tone strangely softer. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Here's the deal, Casanova," she ground out, hair whipping as she faced him. "I am  _not_  having sex with you. I don't know, or  _care_ , what your friends told you or what kind of conclusions you've jumped into, but I am  _not_  interested."

He fell silent for a moment, taken by surprise. "Calm down. And you say  _I'm_  the one jumping into conclusions?"

"Then why do you keep following me with your creeper smile?"

He shot up his eyebrows, clearly offended. " _Creeper_?" He leaned in closer. "Listen here, Blondie, this," he gestured to himself conceitedly, "is A-grade material. Most girls would forget about dignity just to—"

"Just please." She gagged.  "Stop talking."

He shrugged, zipping his mouth in dramatic fashion. Side to side, they walked again.

"Are you still not going to leave me alone?"

He shook his head. "Not in the foreseeable future."

She breathed out a laugh. "Okay, I don't know exactly what you meant by that, but I can tell that it's nothing to do me any good. Just scram, Oliver. I don't have time for this."

"You're not gonna get rid of me that easy."

"Really," she huffed out. "You must be very busy. I don't wanna keep you from doing whatever very important things you do."

"I'm not busy. You're the only one busy with school."

"Clearly you haven't been around MIT a lot," she muttered.

He ignored her. "Are you going to give me your number or am I gonna have to stalk you?"

"Yeah, think twice on your stalking if you don't wanna end up in the hospital."

"Then give me your number."

"Don't you picture yourself having better things to do?" she asked. "Or anything else at all other than following me. . . . Don't you have classes to drop out of?"

He winked. "Way ahead of you. I've been doing that the past two years."

She groaned, rolling her eyes at him. "Ugh."

"At least go out with me tonight. There's this party at Tau Iota—"

"I can't," she muttered mechanically. "I have an early morning shift at work tomorrow."

He snorted. "Please. You said that yesterday."

"I did, and it was true. It's called routine."

"You really use the exact same words?"

She nodded. "It's called routine."

"Maybe if I kiss you I would get this whole dance over with."

She glared at him. "Three words: Don't. You. Dare." She ground every word out with emphasis.

He shot up an eyebrow, tilting his head in outright arrogance. He stilled for a second, and then in the next, he caught her off-guard when he went for the offense. Suddenly he faced her and stepped forward, causing her to automatically stumble backwards until her back hit the cold wall. It was all so fast Felicity could only stare at him in horror as he leaned down, arms trapping her on both sides, stopping with his mouth a mere inch or two from hers.

Her breath caught in her throat, complete terror written on her face. She wasn't sure when exactly her heart went loud and racing, but she was certain that it was because of the way his blue eyes pierced hers.

 

He was intimidating, alright, but Felicity knew better than to back down and give him what he wanted.

But was that what he wanted? 

Either way, she refused to get flustered by his advances. "Get out of my way, Oliver."

"You wanna play this game, Feli-ci-ty?" he said in a tone that can only be described as playful and serious at the same time. His breath brushed against her mouth as he spoke. From her lips, his eyes traveled up to bore on hers. His darkened lenses were a dead giveaway on just how turned on he was.

Confusion rose from within her. "What the  _fuck_ are you high on?" 

He grinned. It only confused her more. "Look, I don't know where you got the idea that I signed up for whatever game you're talking about, but you gotta leave me the hell alone."

"Believe me, Felicity, I tried."

"Oh my God, is this a regular stunt you pull off on girls? I don't think I wanna know how many restraining orders you've earned out of it." She tried to slip under his arm but he managed to block her. She sighed and shot him a dead look. "I'll be late for my class. Can you be an uncivilized caveman some other time?"

He leaned back without letting go of the wall, giving her just enough space to leave. "I'll be seeing you again."

"I am still not interested." She slipped under his arm gracefully, careful not to come in contact with any part of him. "Find another girl to play your game with."

Even though she walked away without as much as a glance back, she knew that her reaction stunned the shit out of him. She wanted to do her celebratory fist pump in the air, but she knew she had to consider the fact that she could still feel his eyes on her back.

 _Wimp_ , she thought.  _Looks like I win_.

But she paused, recalling that she was  _not_  in any kind of game. Although for a second, she caught a part of her plotting her next offense.

Whether or not there was a game, Felicity did not know. But what she did know was that something had definitely started.

 

* * *

Say hi to me on tumblr: [supernovascreenlight](http://supernovascreenlight.tumblr.com/). :D

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

_10:04_ , Felicity's wristwatch read.

She raced through the halls gripping the strap of her backpack tight in her hands. Curse her car keys for getting lost, curse her professor for being late and dismissing the class late.

From the campus, she rode her bicycle to a coffee house called  _Mugged_ , which was her workplace that shared the same building with the boarding house she was staying at. She had been working there on the side since her first week at MIT, even back then when she had her goth getup. She was hired by the owners themselves, Fred and Linda Miller.

The Millers had been very nice to Felicity, during her starting month they let her stay in the boarding house upstairs the shop for free, telling her to pay when she was ready. The couple had even told her she didn't need to, but of course Felicity insisted that she paid. They had treated her like family even when she was practically a stranger. It was mostly because of that why Felicity couldn't leave. She couldn't carry out her initial plan of working there for only six months, and instead she decided to stay for as long as she could. For the most part of her college life, it had been her second home.

Mr. and Mrs. Miller were a quiet old couple who'd had the place running for nine years now. The day Felicity was hired, they had told her how much she resembled their rebellious daughter Kara, who passed away at the age of seventeen. It had been a running joke among the employees that the Millers would go cold toward Felicity after she suddenly dyed her hair blond and turned from the rebel to being the smiling ball of sunshine.

"You're late!" Betty said from the cash register as Felicity shouldered her way past the glass door. Felicity was a mess—her hair pulled up in a careless bun and her face makeup-free.

"I'm sorry!" she gasped out, sprinting her way into the employee's bathroom. With haste, she raked a comb through her hair and fixed it into a ponytail. She ran a thin layer of lipstick over her lips and slapped her glasses on. After washing her hands she bolted out, tying her apron around her waist.

Betty eyed her with concern. "Hey, breathe, Blondie!"

"Yeah, it's okay," Heather added as she processed an order at the espresso machine. "It's a slow day, honey. If they had another big party last night, they're probably still hungover zombies right now."

Felicity nodded, heaving in a deep breath. "Okay." She took over one of the cash registers, her fingers tapping over the counter as she waited for a customer.

Heather was right: It was a slow day. The café was practically empty, and only four booths were taken—three of those each had some hungover students struggling (and most probably failing) to relieve the pounding in their heads with a cup of coffee, and the other one near the door with a blond man. An addition to the scarcely occupied seats was the lady whom Heather served just now.

"Hey, Mrs. Miller dropped by this morning," Betty said, leaning her side on the counter facing Felicity. "She was looking for you."

"I talked to her about the change in my class schedule. . . ."

She chuckled. "The old boss just misses you, Lissy. Just because she was looking for you doesn't mean you're in trouble."

"Is something wrong, honey?" Heather asked. "Why so jumpy?"

"What, someone's gonna barge in and arrest you again?" Betty joked.

Felicity winced. Betty was lovely and sweet. There were moments she could be the perfect older sister figure, but sometimes she could be really insensitive and unmindful of her words. This wasn't the first time she had jabbed about the recent incident Felicity had been struggling to move on over.

Heather hit Betty on the arm, and the latter made a complaining whine. She smiled apologetically at Felicity. "Fliss wasn't arrested, she was summoned for investigation. Drop the bitchiness and try to be a little less unfeeling."

"Yeah, I know, I was kiddin'!"

It had been a year since her ex-boyfriend Cooper Seldon got arrested by the feds, after he used Felicity's super virus to get rid of student loans.

She loved him, and to be honest, she still did, but they had decided to end their relationship two months ago, mostly for her sake. Cooper told her that things just wouldn't work out between the two of them, as he was serving a life sentence, and that Felicity deserved someone who wasn't behind bars; someone who could be with her. It broke her heart, and she hated that it had to happen, but what she hated more was how she never got a say in whether or not their relationship ended. Behind bars or not, Felicity was happy with Cooper. She loved him more than she had ever loved anybody else in her life. And no matter the pain his decision caused her, her feelings never changed.

Felicity's eyes lost focus, and when she felt the tears pricking the corners of her eyes, she tried to pay attention to something else. She listened to the soft coffeehouse music, her foot and fingers tapping to the beat.

"So much for 'I have an early morning shift tomorrow,'" a voice grumbled, snapping her back to her consciousness. From the windows, her eyes traveled to see Oliver standing in front of her. "Ten isn't that early."

She blinked. "You."

He was looking down, lips pursed to the side, a hand fiddling with the straw dispenser. If he was trying to look adorable, he was achieving it. "Hey."

"You're here." She looked at him in confusion. "Why are you here?"

"This is a coffee shop, so I probably came here for coffee," he retorted nonchalantly.

"Oh," she said, putting on her Welcome-may-I-take-your-order face. She was, after all, at her workplace. "Okay. What will you be having?"

"Smoak. Look at me," he said, and she did as she was told. She stifled a smile despite the fact that she was grinding her teeth together. "I have been in here since  _eight_. I have had three cups of latte and I can practically feel caffeine oozing out of my skull."

"Oh," she breathed. Looking past him, she realized that it was him who was sitting at the booth near the door. "Really? What. . . ?"

Was he on a date? An odd feeling crept up to her; one that she hadn't felt in a while. She ignored her thoughts, cursing her brain for even suggesting the word "jealous", and instead looked at Oliver's shaking hands.

If he had been here getting high on caffeine for over an hour just to keep himself waiting for his date, —who was obviously standing him up— then he was a very determined man. She could admire him for that _._

She tilted her head at him, smiling. "Did you happen to try our bagels?"

He shot her a dull glare.

Fiddling with the cash register, she peered up at him. "So did your date ditch you or are you just gullible enough to believe coffee's a good hangover cure?"

He frowned, as if he smelled something revolting. "What? First of all, no girl has ever ditched me on a date.  _Ever_. And second of all, I'm not hungover. My best friend brought me to a bar last night, but I had to leave because there was this girl who just wouldn't leave me alone." He scrunched up his nose. "Tommy seems to always leave me girls who smell like puke."

She laughed, ignoring the relief that poked at her.

He flashed her his charming playboy grin. It all but made Felicity uncomfortable. She fought the urge to roll her eyes, and gave him a tentative smile.

He didn't notice. Typical. "Can you please get out of that counter?"

She looked everywhere but his eyes. "My shift doesn't end until twelve. And then I'd have to get back after lunch."

"I'll pay you, come on!"

"Ex _cuse_ me?"

"I mean, I'll have your time paid."

"What? No way. That'd be unethical."

He snorted. "Please. You came in late."

"Well, that's less unprofessional than leaving five minutes after I've timed in."

He went silent for a moment. His eyes lit up and he spoke, "I'll come back for lunch."

"I'm having lunch with Heather," she retorted.

Looking past her, he spoke. "Hey, Miss?" Felicity looked over her shoulder and saw that he was speaking to Heather. How did he know Heather?

From the coffeemaker, the woman's eyes darted to Oliver. She looked at Felicity, studying her face, and then gave Oliver a cautious "Yeah?"

He flashed his charming smile, the one that Felicity chose to find idiotic last night. "Can I borrow Felicity for lunch?"

Felicity grimaced. " _Borrow_?"

Heather smiled, shooting her a knowing look. "Of course, honey."

Oliver grinned triumphantly. "Great." He squeezed Felicity's hand, prompting her to look at him. "Then I'll see you later."

He had gone past the door before she could manage to protest.

Scowling, she whipped her head back to Heather. "What the  _hell_  was that?"

The redhead only chuckled.

"How do you even  _know_  him?"

"He introduced himself. He asked for you the moment he walked in. Said you told him you have an 'early morning shift.' Classic Flissy."

Felicity's voice went an octave higher. "And suddenly you're setting me up with him?"

"Fliss. . . ."

"Don't 'Fliss' me! You abandoned me there. I thought we had a deal? Back me up with my reasons so I wouldn't go out with anyone? Ring a bell?"

"Oh, Fliss, you didn't see how long he waited for you."

At that, Felicity froze, confusion hitting her with a blow. She shook her head, trying to reorganize her thoughts. "He was. . ." She glanced out the glass windows, to the direction where he had gone off. "He wasn't waiting for me."

"Oh, of course not, because sitting alone in a coffee shop for hours sporting four tall cups of latte and leaving only until he's talked to you isn't considered 'waiting for you.'"

"He said he had three."

"The fourth one he begged to be decaf, probably why he didn't count it with the caffeine buzz," Heather said, ducking as she set the espresso machine brewing. It whirred after a few key presses. "Four cups of latte and two trips to the bathroom. That's pretty impressive if you ask me."

A laugh escaped her lips. "You're being ridiculous."

 

 

 

 

— ♠♥ —

 

"Is it just the hangover, or are you grinning like a fucking idiot?" Tommy grumbled from the kitchen counter, grimacing at the cup of coffee—or at least it  _looked_  like coffee— that he managed to put together.

Oliver raised an eyebrow at him, sliding to one of the stools. "I'm not—"

"Pshh. Yes you are." He took another sip, and then came another disgusted face. "So. . . ."

"Hmm?"

"Blair told me you bailed on them at the party."

Oliver picked up one of the biscuits on his friend's plate. "Blair?"

"The chick from the Delta Kappa party Blair. Tall, ash-blonde, hot as fuck."

It was Oliver's turn to scowl. "Are you kidding me? She sounded like she was tripping on helium."

Tommy straightened up, throwing his arms in the air as he explained. "Dude! She was a catch! Did you see those legs?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "She wasn't that interesting."

He paused, eyeing Oliver suspiciously. "You're not. . . . You didn't get back with Laurel, did you?"

"What? No!"

"Then what's that face?"

"You're being stupid."

He wiggled his eyebrows, grinning. "Morning quickie?"

Oliver's face crumpled more the more words his best friend said. "No!"

"So it's not Laurel, you. . .  _refused_  to get laid more than twice, and you didn't get any more action this morning. . . ." He grinned. "What, you're gonna enter a seminary?"

It was silent for a moment as Tommy studied Oliver's face. And then his eyes widened.

"Holy _shit_. You met a girl you like!"

Like? No way. He wouldn't go there. Yet.

No, not ever. He scoffed. "I don't  _like_  her. She's just a little intriguing. She was kind of an. . . aloof little bitch."

"Ah, the curiosity of getting into an uninterested girl's pants!" Tommy said, rolling his eyes. "Ever thought maybe she's. . . I dunno, got a boyfriend?"

Oliver flashed a coy smile. "Is that ever an issue?"

He shot him a glare. "You're a dick."

"I'm taking her out for lunch today."

He snorted, "So much for intriguing." He gave up on his coffee after one last sip, pushing it away from him with a groan. "Drop it, dude, she's easy."

Oliver's mouth fell shut. He shifted uncomfortably, averting Tommy's eyes. "Well, actually, she didn't say yes."

Tommy's mouth fell open. One second he was silent, and then on another broke out in laughter. He pushed away from the counter, throwing his head backwards as he clapped his hands. His howl echoed in the room, and when he faced Oliver again, there were tears in his eyes.

"Oh my _God_ , Ollie!" he exclaimed between his laughs. "You should've seen your face! Hah! Hah! That's it—I need to meet her! I need to be friends with this girl!"

* * *

 

Say hi to me on tumblr: [supernovascreenlight](http://supernovascreenlight.tumblr.com/). :D


	4. Chapter 4

 Fists clenched, Felicity watched the wall clock tick second by bloody second.

"It's just lunch, Blondie, what is wrong with you?" Betty asked, voice laced with annoyance. She turned to Heather, handing her the frappe a woman ordered.

"Thanks, hun," Heather mumbled, and then swiftly handed the customer her drink and a wrapped piece of straw. Without turning away from the register, she spoke to Felicity. "Fliss, if you're really not comfortable with it, you could simply tell him. But it's just lunch! You get free thousands of calories, a ton of grease,  _and_  you get to befriend Oliver Queen. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Oliver  _Queen_?" Betty exclaimed. A few pairs of eyes darted in their direction, and she toned it down at once. "As in, Starling playboy, Oliver Queen?"

"Uh-huh, that's him." Heather nodded. "I hear he's staying here in Massachusetts. He goes to Harvard with his best bud Tommy Merlyn." She pulled her eyebrows together, eyeing Betty curiously. "Why, what's wrong?"

She blanched. "Oh, Blondie, he's bad news."

Felicity looked from the counter to the wall clock back and forth, only half-listening to the two banter. She was sitting on a stool beside the coffee maker, her back against the cold wall.

She'd heard of the name Oliver Queen a handful of times, both in high school and college, but that was it. She didn't pay mind to any of the giggling teenagers fantasizing about moving to California for the sole purpose of dating, or sleeping with, the famous Ollie. If anything, she was disgusted. The man was world-renowned for his hobby of sleeping around with random women. Felicity wasn't really the biggest fan of STDs. More than that, Felicity Smoak wasn't the biggest fan of temporary things. Only once had a person made her believe in the idea of permanence, and that was Cooper. But he, like everyone else, dropped out of her life.

The less fortunate circumstances that comprised her past shaped her into being the independent, ambitious woman she was today. Two years from now, she would graduate, she was going to start a new life and there was no way in hell that Oliver Queen, or anyone else, was going to get into her head and screw that up.

"Stop being a pessimist, Bett!"

"No, Heather, he is! Bad news,  _very_  bad news. He went to the same high school as my little sister and he slept with more than half the female population of the school before graduation!  _High school_ , Heather!" She shook her head. "If I were you, Blondie, I'd keep my distance. Guys like him are only after one thing."

"You wanna know what's wrong with you, Bett? You are this judgmental little whiner. You were here this morning and you saw him wait for Fliss."

"I'm not judgmental, I just think it's better to learn from other people's mistakes. And that wasn't simply waiting!  _That_  was his gameplay. And Blondie's the conquest." Betty turned to face Felicity, whose expression remained as severe. "Here's what you should do, Blondie: the second the clock strikes noon, you get your ass out of here, and Heather and I'll come up with an excuse like we always do."

"Oh, for the love o' Christ!" Heather groaned. "Knock it off, Betty. Fliss here's nervous enough."

"I'm  _not_  nervous," Felicity ground out through her teeth. "I'm  _pissed_."

Betty laughed, almost in triumph. Heather only looked at her in confusion. " _Why?_ "

Felicity's eyes went filled with rage. " _Why_? Because he's dense enough to think he could drag me out of here to have lunch with him when he never even  _asked_. I'm not one of those swooning puppies who beg for his attention. I'm not going."

"I got your back, Blondie," Betty said.

Heather was about to argue, but a small group of students walked in, diverting her attention and prompting Felicity to stand behind one of the registers.

A woman approached her first. She stood up eyeing their menu board overhead, and when she looked at Felicity, she smiled a broad, friendly smile, the corners of her brown eyes crinkling. 

Felicity couldn't help but smile back. "Hi."

"Hey," she said, and then placed her order. After having her coffee assembled and put inside a to-go bag, a thought crossed Felicity's mind.

"Are you new here?" Felicity paused. "I didn't mean to sound rude. I was just curious. Because you don't look like a student, but then again, anyone could be a student.. . . Not—that I'm saying you look old, actually, you look very pretty, I'm just saying that you have more of a professor vibe than a student's. . . ."

The woman looked down, grinning in amusement. Her shoulder-length brown hair shook a little when she looked back up. "I _am_ a professor. I teach at Central City University. We're here in MIT for a seminar."

"I knew it," Felicity said. "I mean, not that you teach at CCU, but that you're a professor. I think I saw you one time on TV." She paused to think for a moment, and then her eyes widened. "You're Caitlyn Snow--the doctor at the STAR Labs in Central City."

Caitlyn smiled and was about to speak, but a man called her from behind.

"Cait? Come on. Dr. Brooke's looking for you."

"Just a sec, Ronnie," she said and before walking away, she smiled at Felicity. "I have to go now."

She nodded. "Bye." She glanced at her and the man that Felicity supposed was her boyfriend, what with the way they held each other's hands. Felicity proceeded with her job, the different vaguely familiar MIT students keeping her mind occupied with their coffee preferences.

A little while later, when the customers were all in their seats, Felicity perched back on the stool, leaning her head on the wall as she waited for something else to do. Again, the teeth-gritting went back as she began to imagine the impending asshatery from none other than Oliver Queen.

As if on cue, the door chimed, with Oliver and his dark-haired wingman walking in. Felicity glanced at the clock, and saw that they were eighteen minutes early from noon.

Wait,  _they_?

Struggling to tamp down the sudden need to crush someone's nose, she hopped off the stool and headed for the kitchen.

"Felicity, I already saw you!" Oliver called out loud, resulting to having multiple pairs of eyes shoot at Felicity's direction.

She turned to face him, crossing her arms across her chest. Behind him was Tommy, whose face looked mostly curious and a little scared. He kept a safe distance, as if he could already see where this was going. Good for him. She glowered at Oliver. "I was actually about to get a knife I could stab you with."

He flinched, pausing in his tracks. "Why are you so angry at me?"

She rolled her eyes and started back toward the kitchen. Stomping her way through, she felt a hand grasp her forearm. She was yanked backwards, hands catching the sides of her face, and almost simultaneously, her chest collided with another. Despite the violent pull, the lips that captured hers were gentle.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her brain finally catching up with what was happening. But she couldn't move a muscle _._  Every last bit of her focus went down to the way Oliver's lips hovered softly against hers. Her body betrayed her with a shiver when his fingers brushed on the sensitive skin just under her left ear. It wasn't long before her even more traitorous eyes fell close, but she forced them open right away.

Hatching a plan in her mind, she stayed still as a stone and let him finish. She felt his hold loosen and he pulled away, slowly opening his eyes. She ignored the strange feeling that coursed through her when his dazed, blue eyes met hers. She took a step back, and with all her power, launched her fist onto his face.

He staggered backwards, and Felicity didn't give him the chance to even look at her. Keeping an indifferent expression in her face, she untied her apron and placed it over the counter.

She walked out, ignoring the stunned stares of those who saw what happened, which involved everyone in the room. 

 

  
— ♠♥ —

 

He stood frozen. And a little dizzy. From the kiss or from the punch, he wasn't sure, but _damn_ , did she have a solid punch. Psychotic as it may sound, but he. . .  _liked_  it. Not getting punched, of course, but her ferocity. No one could have expected someone who so small and soft-spoken to be that violent when she'd had enough.

But still he stood smiling. Because her lips tasted amazing. Because her skin felt delightfully warm against his palm. Because he was _certain_ that he felt her shiver from something that he wanted to think wasn't disgust. Even if she didn't punch him, he wouldn't have been any less lightheaded and flustered. 

He turned to Tommy, feeling every pair of eyes in the coffee shop drill through him.

Slowly,—too slowly it was almost comical—Tommy grinned. For the second time today, he burst in laughter.

Oliver shook his head, feeling amused as well for some reason he could not pinpoint, and walked out of the room, his best friend close behind. He was smiling when they reached his car.

"Alright," Tommy said as he caught his breath. "I'm going to ignore the idea that there's a chance getting punched by a girl turns you on. Or is it just her?"

"Shut up, Tommy."

He shrugged, still beaming as they got in the car. This time, Tommy was driving. "So where to? I'm starving."

"You know any burger place?" 

"There's a Big Belly Burger nearby," Tommy suggested, to which Oliver nodded. 

The whole time during the drive, he prattled on. "I gotta admit: She's not what I expected."

"What do you mean?" Oliver asked, looking sideways to him.

"Before we walked in, I saw her through the glass walls being all-smiles and giggly," he explained, doing gestures with one hand. "I thought she'd be one of those usual, flustered nerds. . . . But then we did walk in, and she glared at _me_ , Ollie. . . . It was honestly kinda scary." He shrugged. "I think she meant it when she said she's not interested."

As he put the car to Park across the restaurant, Oliver caught sight of Felicity's blond hair. 

"Tommy, wait."

He looked up, and then followed Oliver's line of sight. "Oh-hoh-oh," he laughed. "Will you look at that."

"Do you think she's gonna want to see me?"

"Based on that huge bruise on your face, I'm gonna say no."

Oliver was about to speak, but Tommy's eyes went focused on two women approaching the car they were in.  

 

—

 

"You're so funny," the woman whose name Oliver forgot said to Tommy, shoulders shaking as she giggled.

"How about we go for drinks tonight, huh?"

Oliver fidgeted as he stood, his eyes darting from the diner across the road to the concrete floor beneath his feet. The huge glass windows showed Felicity eating inside, her back turned to him. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, barely listening to his best friend flirt with girls they just met as he debated in his mind whether or not he should walk in and apologize.

"Ollie, come on!" Tommy called, but Oliver didn't look at him. "You gotta give her some space, man."

He glanced at him over his shoulder. The two women were leaning close to Tommy, their eyes intentionally lewd. He shook his head, frowning. He stared at the floor for a moment.

"I'm gonna talk to her."

"You're no fun at all, Ollie."

"Having trouble with your girlfriend?" one of the girls asked, biting her cherry red lip.

"We could go to our dorm," the other suggested. "We'd be happy to help you forget."

Oliver ignored them, taking a deep breath. Decided, he started towards the road, not looking away from Felicity as step by step he crossed the road.

Halfway there, he paused, stomach sinking at the sight of a man approaching approaching her. He could have sworn he felt his heart stop for a moment, making him unable to move. Suddenly, everything became clear.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there staring at her, even though she couldn't see him. He could imagine her smiling, as he watched her shoulders shake in laughter at whatever the man was saying.

"OLLIE!" Tommy yelled, and then he was being dragged backwards. A gust of wind blew at them as a car raced past, nearly missing Oliver. "Are you trying to get yourself killed!?"

Clenching his fists, he turned around and walked towards his car as if nothing happened.

"Hey," Tommy jogged to his side. "What's wrong, where are you going?"

"Home," he snapped, facing forward.

"What?" He eyed him with confusion. "Why, I thought you were gonna talk to—?"

Oliver turned to face his friend, his expression stoic. "She's taken."

Tommy stilled, surprised. "Hey, you said that wouldn't be an issue, right?" he joked, desperate to put him in a better mood.

"Just. . . ," he shook his head, reaching for the car keys. Without a word, Tommy handed it to him. "Leave me alone, Tommy." He yanked the door open and seated, slamming the door close. 

"I'll see you later, Ollie," Tommy said, his concerned voice muffled by the glass windows. His best friend knew him well enough to keep distance from him when he needed to be alone.

He raced his way back home, letting the car speed wash off the excessive adrenaline he felt. After hours composed of moping around the apartment, making himself a meal for a late lunch that he ended up not eating anyway, showering, and a little more moping, he went back into his car and drove off again, this time out for liquor.

Seeing police cruisers along the road, he decided to drive a little safer. At one of the red lights, he checked his phone. Tommy had sent him messages.

 

 

 

  
**Ollie, I dnt think he's her bf.**

**OK, let's not talk abt her.**

**Let's go out 4 drinks. Emma & Ashley r fun I swear.**

**Ollie? Pls don't kill urself.**

**LOL kidding. Get ur ass out of d house. These 2 are fckin hot.**

**@ Cosmos ryt now w/ company.**

**it's a bar & it's swarming w/ chicks.**

 

Oliver pocketed the device, keeping his eyes on the road as his heart went unreasonably rapid and obscurely aching. Catching sight of the bar, he slowed down. Just as he was going to climb out, an oddly familiar man was at the doorway with a woman in his arms, blindly kissing their way out until the girl's back hit the wall.

It was Felicity's boyfriend. And the woman he was making out with didn't look the slightest like a blonde with glasses.

He was cheating on her.

Suddenly he felt enraged, the urge to crush this cheater's bones almost overpowering him. Felicity, the girl he. . . . someone he deemed special--wait. No. Scratch that. Just Felicity. She was just Felicity and she was being stabbed in the back by her own boyfriend.

At first, he thought finding a reason for them to break up would make him happy, but the truth was, his heart clenched at the thought of how she would react once she found out. For a second there, he hesitated, but then again, she had to know. She deserved better than this.


	5. Chapter 5

"They were making out at Mugged."

"At the coffee shop, can you believe it?!"

"I hear she dumped him."

"I hear she's angry 'cause he got her pregnant."

"They went home together."

It took Felicity all of her to keep herself from screaming as she walked through the school halls, and, with as much effort, tried to ignore the whispers of the students. She could almost feel herself trembling, her palms getting cold, her jaw ticking as anxiety swallowed her whole.

She was the new rumor specimen of the university. All thanks to Oliver.

She slammed her locker door shut, making some jump, and almost everyone whip their heads to her direction. It was a common human gesture equal to saying, "You can stop talking now, I am right over here and I can hear you very well." But of course, being the dense, unfeeling creatures they were, they didn't get it.

Taking in a lungful of air, she walked to her next class, feeling as alone as any other day.

"Psst, Fliss!"

She looked up, and saw Gail mouthing at her. She was sitting on the far right corner of the room, two desks away from Felicity.

"What?"

_Sit next to me!_

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Why?"

_Just come on!_

Rolling her eyes, she snatched her backpack and crossed the room, sliding into a seat next to Gail's.

"Why do I hear everyone calling you a playboy conquest?" Gail hissed as soon as Felicity had sat.

She did a mental gag upon hearing the sentence. "And you believe them?"

"No, Fliss, I don't! But why—?"

"Why are you whispering?" Felicity cut her off.

She straightened, but her voice remained as low. "Fliss. There are eyes and ears everywhere in this school. Especially when it's a scoop involving someone hot."

"Oh, this is _precious_ ," she muttered.  _Unbelievable._

"Hey, I don't care what they're saying but I thought you said no more trouble?" Gail whined quietly. "I mean, it's cool if you like Oliver Queen--"

"I don't like him."

"--but you've gone through more than enough last year."

She smiled bitterly, leaning her elbows over the desk. "You're telling me all this as if I don't know that a solid one month of being called a criminal is enough."

"That's exactly my point!"

"I am not a troublemaker, Gail, you know that," Felicity said. "I didn't bring this to myself. Consider me an innocent bystander.

"Then get as far away from this Ollie guy as possible. He might be an eye candy, but he's just bad news, Flissy. Bad. News. You're better off without him."

She scoffed. As if she hadn't heard that one before.

"Are you hearing me, Fliss?"

"Yes, Gail, I hear you. And don't worry. I'm not interested in him. He's not as charming as everyone says he is."

One of her eyebrows hiked up. "Does  _he_  know you're not interested?"

"He should. My fist pretty much told him so."

"You  _punched_  him?" Her eyes bulged behind her glasses. "It's true?"

Felicity shrugged. "The only bit of the story that they got right."

"Actually, the kiss makes it two," Gail muttered, and immediately Felicity shot her a glare. She held her hands up in defense. "Hey, Marilyn shoved the snapshot to my face earlier!"

She rolled her eyes. "Are you done now? Because I have my own seat back there. . . ."

"I just. . . ." She blew out a sigh, her face frowning. "I didn't like seeing you all alone while I hear everyone badmouthing you!"

Felicity stilled. Her thoughtfulness made her smile. . .and feel a little awkward. "You're being ridiculous, Gail. I've been through worse."

Two minutes past the time, Professor Burton stepped in and slapped the front desk with his book. Felicity sighed. Typical angry Programming torturer. Not that Programming was hard for Felicity. Mr Burton just seemed to despise the idea of giving students the grades they deserve.

—

  
"Smoak."

Felicity looked up from the inedible lump on her plate. Yay university meal plan. She saw her first year History classmate, Tory Hall leaning down her table.

Tory was beautiful, alright, but everyone knew she was in MIT because one of her parents was a member of the board.

Felicity sighed. She didn't like Tory so much. What could she say? Cooper once cheated on her with that girl. "What is it?"

Tory looked at Felicity down her nose, plastering on the most vapid smile on earth. "I hear you've been busy."

"What do you want, Tory?"

"We dated once, you know."

"What?" Felicity groaned, looking appalled. "I don't remember my disgust toward you lessening."

The woman scowled. "I don't mean you, smartass, I mean Ollie Queen!"

Felicity raised an eyebrow. This conversation made her wonder if these bullies here were aware that they were at a school full of smartasses. And she couldn't see how the word was supposed to offend her. "Should I be concerned about that?"

"We dated for two months over summer when I was in California. I don't recall him paying attention to dorks like you."

God help her, this little brat was too desperate. "Two months? Wow, it's a shame he couldn't buy you some dignity."

"Just because you transformed yourself into a nun doesn't change the fact that you're just some ambitious Vegas trash discontented with the slut income your mom has—"

"Tory," she cut her off, eyes murderous as she stood. "First of all: Fuck. You." She could hear Donna's disapproval to Felicity's language echoing in the back of her head.  _Well_ , she thought.  _This is for you, Mom_. "Second of all, nothing—not even your life—would ever be enough to buy you the right to talk about my mom like that. I don't know what else to shut you up, but ten seconds from now I'm gonna ram this fork right into your plastic boobs. So get lost."

With a scoff, Tory sashayed off, leaving Felicity to roll her eyes at her snottiness. Again, Felicity felt pairs of eyes on her. She dropped the fork on the plate, but its sound was silenced by the noise in the room. She slung her backpack over her shoulder, walking out of the cafeteria.

"Yo, Smoak!" a deep voice called from behind her, resounding through the crowded corridors.

Felicity turned, and immediately wished she hadn't. It was Paul, one of the many annoying football players.

Paul was tall, undeniably good-looking, had the sense of humor of a dead raccoon and just didn't know when to shut up. He was majoring a four-year course, but now he was on his fifth year for some reason.

And now he was jogging toward her.

"What do you need?" she asked, taking a step back.

"I'll walk you out."

"I can walk by myself, no thanks." She turned and walked, but he caught up and trudged along beside her.

He lay a hand on the book in her hand and said, "Why don't you let me carry this thing for you?"

Annoyed, she sighed. Forcing a smile, she loosened her grip. "Fine."

"How many books do you own?" he complained, theatrically sagging his shoulders from the burden. Surprisingly, he was able to last a minute of silence. And then he spoke again, his mouth dangerously close to the skin below her ear. "You know, I never told you how I dig the librarian thing."

She shuddered, yanking back her book from his hands. "I never told you how you make me sick."

"Hey, listen. We're gonna have this party at our frat house. I can find us a place there. . . ." He put his arm around her shoulders and again, brought his lips to her ears. "Somewhere private."

In an instant, she shook his arm off, creating a safe distance from him. "No thank you."

"Come on, don't tell me that's what Vegas taught you."

Felicity grimaced. In the same instant, she shoved her programming book to his stomach, causing him to pull back and grunt in pain. With his face lowered down as he recoiled, she slapped the book to the side of his face.

She felt sorry for the book. But it had to be done. She quickly turned away, heading out.

"Fucking prude," Paul muttered as she walked away. "If I were Seldon, I woulda went to prison too, than stay here and be your boyfriend."

Without looking back, she threw a middle finger up in the air. Forget finesse. Dicks like him didn't deserve the effort.

She bustled past the door, focusing more on keeping her tears at bay than her unsteady gait. She was able to get past the hoard of students, and got herself to an empty side of the quadrangle. The second she was sure she was alone, the tears started to fall.

Everything was a mess. The reason was far more shallow this time, but it hurt just the same. The scenario made her feel like she was living the nightmare all over again, making her feel like a zoo animal people could point on and laugh at. It sucked how they could feel entitled to reduce you into a lowlife as from what they hear.

She sat under the shade of the mahogany tree that she had considered to be her first friend here at this school. This was where she came crying on her first day, when shitstorm after shitstorm she got through the pressuring, anxiety-filled day. As time passed, this area had been more than just a metaphorical shoulder for her to cry on. This had been her special place where she could be alone when she wanted to be.

But it looked like today wasn't that day. She heard footsteps rustle on the grass.

"Mind if I join you?" a slightly familiar male voice asked. She kept her head down, wiping her cheeks.

"Get the fuck away from me, Paul, I swear to God I will burn you alive."

After a beat of silence, he spoke.  "Ouch. But my name is Tommy, so I guess I'm safe. . . ?"

Felicity stiffened. Frowning, she stared up at him. It  _was_  Tommy Merlyn. Quickly, she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. She sniffled, straightening. "What are you doing here?"

"Victoria's on the hunt for my head."

She snorted. "What, you got a girl pregnant!?"

He took in a sharp breath, gritting his teeth. 

Her jaw slacked, watching him wide-eyed. "You're serious!?"

"No, I am totally kidding," he chortled, clearly pleased with himself.

She lowered her eyebrows, glaring at him as his laughter died.

He smirked, tilting his head as he caught his breath. "Hi."

"Leave me alone."

He turned his face forward, eyes squinting at the sunlit field. "Rough day?"

She didn't answer and looked at her hands, unsure of how to respond.

"It's okay to cry, you know. You're still a tough, hard-ass to me," he told her after a minute.

Felicity sighed. "You don't know me, Tommy."

"True. But I do know that you were the first girl to punch the shit out of Ollie."

Her attention was piqued at the sound of his name. She cursed herself inwardly and shot up an eyebrow, dubious. "I don't believe you for a second."

"Really!" Tommy said, grinning. "All the girls before you were slappers and hair-pullers. But you," He pointed a finger at her, chuckling. "You looked like you would have beaten him up with a crowbar if he'd gone a second further."

Felicity snickered. "Lucky him, I don't own a crowbar."

He shook his head, his laughter fading. "So. . . . Do I get to hear what happened?"

She shrugged. "Same old. The gossip-hungry vultures got to me. And men think I'm a slut."

His mouth fell open. " _What_?"

"There are. . . factors in my life that apparently make them conclude that I'm a sleazeball." She gritted her teeth. "To top it all off, as of I'm not sure when, I have gone from 'Felicity the Cheap Nun' to 'Blond Girl Ollie Banged.' Now everyone's watching me like they're fucking sentinels."

Her words left Tommy nonplussed. From bewilderment, his expression turned into an apologetic one. "Felicity, I'm sorry."

"You two put on quite a show in the coffeehouse." Glancing at her wristwatch, she found out that she had about five minutes before her next class started. She got to her feet and grabbed her bag. "Listen, I, uh. . . I have to go. I still have classes."

"Felicity, can we talk?"

She shook her head and eyed him with unease. "I don't wanna hear it," she muttered and turned. 

The rest of the day dragged on, and like always, the feeling of being stuck in a temporary but nevertheless sick merry-go-round depressed Felicity. On normal circumstances, she might have been able to shake it off and think of graduating and a more exciting future, but tonight she couldn't. Because today she relived not only the bland, day-to-day mess she was in—today she saw her insecurities, her issues and her flaws being thrown at her.

She felt like she was being haunted by her past; the thoughts of how no one would want to be involved with the disaster that she was truer and more magnified than ever before.

  
— ♠♥ —

 

 _I should tell her,_ Oliver thought to himself for probably the hundredth time as he sat on the couch, arms folded and hands running over his face.

_Felicity, I know you hate me and there's a hundred percent chance you're gonna hate me ten times more just for hearing this from me, but your boyfriend is cheating on you._

_I miss you. Please don't hate me for this but your boyfriend's a fucking jerk._

_Break up with him and I'll show you how important you are._

Over and over he practiced in his mind how he was going to tell her that the man she was so loyal to was a lying piece of shit.

"Ollie!" Tommy waved a hand in front of his face. He realized he didn't even notice that he already arrived. "Guess who I saw today. . . ." He trailed off, seeing the disheartened look on Oliver's face. "What's wrong?" 

He heaved out a huge breath, standing up. "Nothing, I'm fine."

"Don't tell me it's Felicity again—"

"It  _is_  Felicity again. It's always Felicity. I need to see her."

Tommy grabbed his arm to stop him. "Ollie, I don't think that now's the right time. . . ."

"I just want to see her." Even to his own ears, he sounded desperate.

"There's more to this than what you're telling me, isn't there?"

Oliver dropped back to the couch, sighing in frustration. "I don't know anything anymore. This girl's messing with my head."

"Quite honest, you haven't been yourself lately."

"I just. . . I can't stop it! I can't stop thinking about her. It's unsettling."

"And you think storming into her space would settle it?"

"I don't know! I told you, I just want to see her."

"Ollie, I think you need more time away."

Oliver shook his head. Clearly his best friend did not have an idea how crazier he was getting every single second he spent away from her.

Without another word, he strode out of the apartment, into his car and drove off. He wasn't sure if he had it in him to tell her now about the thing he found out about her boyfriend. Maybe he would, maybe he wouldn't. He didn't care. He just needed to see her.

He parked across the road, unprepared to see how she would react to seeing him again. She was the first thing he saw when he approached the little coffee house, and eventually he figured that she was closing the store. Her body was swaying sideways to a rhythm as she walked along the inside of the counters, hands grasping jars that she put into shelves she could barely reach.

The rush of feelings he experienced every time he saw her was altogether frightening to him, but how was he supposed to focus on fear, when a more indefinable, satisfying warmth squeezes its way into his chest; filling the muscle that most people believed he lacked to the brim.

He took a deep breath and pushed the door open with one hand, the other in his pocket. An old, sappy song was playing inside, and hearing the familiar lyrics, he figured out that this was the song she was swaying to.

She jumped when the door chimed, turning around at once. Their eyes met, and Oliver didn't care anymore what he came here for. All intentions were forgotten. But in that very moment, that few seconds that felt like eternity as they held each other's eyes, everything felt right.

He could have sworn he saw her smile at him, but it vanished in a beat, as if she suddenly recalled she was supposed to hate him.

But still. She smiled. If she was mad at him or not, he would not mind, for that quick, beautiful smile was from the woman who, since day one, had claimed a place of her own in his mind and under his skin. 

  
— ♠♥ —

  
 

Gripping a cloth in her hand and a cleaning spray in the other, Felicity straightened up, her back aching after having wiped the tables and turned the chairs over.

She headed behind the counter as she untied her apron and took it off. She grabbed the condiment containers as she passed by the counters, swaying to the faint Beatles song from the radio. She hummed along as she placed condiments back into the shelves. 

 _Ding_! the door chimed, and she wheeled around, stunned to see Oliver walking into the room, his eyes on hers.

Her heart fluttered. And the warmth she felt from inside her chest somehow made its way up her lips, and she smiled.

 _Mayday, mayday!_  a little voice from inside her mind alerted her. She looked down, and the ache she felt earlier came back. Feeling a sense of betrayal, she felt that ache turn into anger. She steeled herself and looked straight into his eyes.

"We're closing," she snapped.

He ignored her, making his way to the counter. "You're open 'til 10."

"It's 9:54!"

"Then I still have five good minutes to enjoy a cup." He slid atop a stool, a smug smile in place. "Do your worst, Smoak."

She frowned at him. Did he think it was okay to go smirking like that after that scene he made yesterday? "Can't you just leave?"

He snorted. "Why would I leave?"

"What do you want from me?"

"I already told you: a cup of your signature blend." He shrugged out of his jacket and leaned his arms over the surface. "Please."

Knowing it was pointless to argue, she turned to process his order. Utensils would have clanged if it weren't for the possibility that Heather and Betty were already asleep upstairs. She wracked her brain in search for a way to give him a hint that she was angry. Just when she was going to blend in a sweetener, she paused. Grinding her teeth together, she picked up the salt container instead and poured one... no, three teaspoons of salt into the metal cup and let it blend in the beater. She was fighting off a grin as she transferred the contents into a cup. Topping it off with whipped cream, she handed it to him.

He gave her a five, and she literally punched it into the register. She slammed his change on the counter, the coins making cracking noises against the surface.

"Thank you," he said, with the same freaking smug grin on his smug little face.

Felicity pulled off her best poker face, from the peripheral view watching him hold the cup to his mouth. She looked at him and caught him watching her as well, and he took in a huge gulp. A wicked grin broke across her face, just as his face crumpled up.

Sweet—okay,  _salty_ —revenge.

He went still, and for a second, Felicity thought he was going to throw up. He broke out into a coughing fit, his face growing red. Along with his hands, the cup fell onto the counter with a  _thump_. He ducked, gasping for air.

The sight made Felicity panic. Pride and games forgone, she reached out to him. "Oliver? Are you okay?"

She shuffled to get him a glass of water. She rushed out of the counter and went next to him. Unawarely, she was running her free hand over his back as he coughed his lungs out. She nudged the glass to his elbow and he sat up to drink it.

"Interesting blend," he croaked and coughed again. He peered up at her, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. "You're still my favorite barista, don't worry."

She could only stare at him in bewilderment.  _Unbelievable_. Hard as she tried to subdue her worry, she could still feel it written all over her face.

Amusement filled his eyes as he peered up at her, coughing a little more. "You look worried, Miss Smoak," he teased.

Felicity smacked lightly the back of his head. "Worried? I thought you were going to die, for god's sake!"

He snorted. "Die? A little salt can't kill me."

"The coughing fit you threw! I thought you were asthmatic and dying!"

He shrugged. "It just went down the wrong pipe."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, go home, Oliver."

"I'm not going anywhere."

 _That's it._  

"Okay, so you  _think_  it's alright to make a scene here in this very place and then expect me to wanna hang out with you when you decide to come back?" She didn't know where the anger was coming from, or  _if_  it was really anger, but it was there.

"Is that what this is about?"

"Yes!" she yelled, exasperated. "I don't even know what you want me to say, Oliver, we're not even friends!"

Despite that, he smiled softly at her. "You don't have to say anything. I just wanted to see you."

Hearing those words, along with the warmth of his voice was one thing, but it was his eyes that stole all the words she had away, and for the first time in a while, Felicity was rendered speechless. She tried, but she could not reorganize her thoughts, much less a sensible sentence. So when she spoke, she expressed in one word all the confusion she felt.

" _Why_?"

"Felicity."

She felt warmth bubble up in her chest at the way he said her name. He made it sound...different. Special.

She also realized it had been a while since he'd called her by her first name. That must be it. It sounded different because of that. Nothing more.

"I can't do this, Oliver. I'm tired."

He stood up, and without warning, wrapped her tightly in his arms. From that position she could hear his heartbeat drumming softly in her ears, and her thoughts strayed to imagining herself falling asleep to that kind of rhythmic sound. He pressed his lips to the crown of her head, his lips warmly lingering against her skin.

"I missed you," he mumbled, and then rested his lips on her temple again. "I'm here because I missed you. I don't have a better excuse."

Just when Felicity was feeling herself melt into his arms, he let go and held her face with one hand.

He sighed, looking her deeply in the eyes. He seemed like he was going to say something, but after an eternity in that second, he just smiled.

He walked away, leaving Felicity to chase whatever in her way he had thrown.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Erm... You might find this chapter a bit boring, but it just can't not be told. I think it's necessary for the progression of Oliver and Felicity's, er. . . relationship. Because in the next chapters there will be sort of a turning point for our beloved otp. . . Well, at least in this story.  
> And I have to apologize—only now have I realized how awkwardly I'd chopped this all chapter-wise. I'm trying what I can to make this interesting, I promise (emphasize on the "trying." Heheh).  
> Happy reading!  
> But more importantly, happy shipping! May we get through this hiatus soundly. :)  
> Love,  
> Bea

 

"So, let me get this straight: You're telling me you  _saw_  her boyfriend trading spit with another girl, you got the chance to talk to her last night. . . and you  _didn't_  tell her?"

Tommy stood across the living room, as if he was a father reprimanding a child. This had been a regular scenario lately, to be specific ever since Oliver had met Felicity Smoak.

He shrugged, but his eyes gave away how  _not_ indifferent he was about the subject. "Why should I?"

"Oliver, pull your head out of your ass. There's no use denying that you care about her."

"She's just a girl, for crying out loud."

"Oliver," Tommy snapped. 

He ran a hand over his face, sighing heavily. "I made a complete ass of myself yesterday."

"What?"

"If you laugh, Merlyn, I'm moving out and you're gonna have to find a new cook," Oliver threatened, pointing a finger to his best friend. He ground his teeth together, leaning his elbow on his knees as he sat on the couch. "Yesterday, I went to her. And then I hugged her. And I said something  _very_  stupid."

"What exactly. . . ?"

"No fucking way I'm telling you. But it's stupid enough to convince her that I'm insane." To his surprise, though, Tommy remained quiet. If anything, he looked concerned, his eyes watching Oliver searchingly. Well, that was understandable; Oliver Queen wasn't exactly a man who worried over relationships, let alone one he had with a practical stranger. 

He breathed out a weak laugh, staring off into space. "I don't know what came over me. I hate feeling like this."

"You don't hate it," Tommy retorted. "You're just not used to it." The cushion beneath Oliver shifted when Tommy took a seat. "Okay, tell me again why you didn't tell her about the cheating scumbag?"

Oliver's shoulders slumped even lower as he sat. "I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"She hates me. She's going to hate me even more."

"That's kinda selfish, man."

"I know."

"Look, Ollie," Tommy sighed. "You  _have_  to tell her. She has a right to know. If you don't, I'm gonna get your ass down that coffeehouse and you'll have to stand as witness when I tell her myself. . . . That, and one other thing I learned today."

Oliver didn't speak, but pulled his eyebrows together in curiosity.

Tommy grinned. "You're in love with her."

He opened his mouth to speak, but ended up looking away and gritting his teeth.

Tommy snickered. "Quit denying it."

"I'm not."

"You're not denying it, you mean."

"You're not making this any easier, you know."

"I'll take that as a yes." Tommy stood up, fishing the car keys from his pocket and tossing it on to the couch. "And by yes, I mean yes you're in love with her."

  

— ♠♥—

  

"Miss Smoak," Professor Grayson called her name just as she was heading out the Physics lab. She turned.

"Sir?"

The old man smiled warmly at her. "You perfected the exam last week. Great job, young lady."

Her only response was an impish laugh, followed by a polite smile."Thank you, Sir."

He nodded. "Carry on now. Don't wanna be late for your work."

She gave him a casual salute, and started toward the corridors as she slid into her coat. It was her day-off, but she wasn't really in the mood to stay in the campus. "See you later, Sir."

"Miss Smoak," he called again. Tamping down her irritation, she faltered back, ducking her head past the door.

"Yep?"

"Are you free tomorrow night?"

 _Should've run when I had the chance_ , she thought.

Good old Mr. Michael Grayson was a great teacher and a supportive mentor, but it had been long since Felicity decided to keep distance from him, all for one reason: He had been trying to set her up with his thirty-year-old son for God knew how long.

"Um, I'm sorry," she answered awkwardly, waving off a hand. "I, uh, one of my coworkers is going out of town. Asked me to stand in and all. You know, work stuff. . . ."

His smile faded. "Oh, alright. I understand. Next time, I suppose."

She didn't waste time and rushed out after a nod.  _Let's hope not_.

She headed out into the autumn day, toward the line of bicycle stands. Her Camry was fixed, but this morning she found out how much she enjoyed riding her bike. Not only did it save her from gas money, it also made her learn how beautiful the school greenery was. Only, now it wasn't really green, because of the season. But it was beautiful just the same.

A little enjoyment was enough to distract her even for a short time from thinking about Oliver.

She sighed. Oliver, Oliver, Oliver. That little stunt that he pulled the last night at the coffeehouse was. . . . Well, if Felicity was going to be honest, the hug felt nice. His arms felt nice. In truth, if he had made his hold last a little bit longer, Felicity might have forgotten the mess she was currently in and nestled in his chest.

But of course that must never happen. That was why she was grateful that he pulled away.

"Felicity?" a familiar voice called. She looked over her shoulder to see Myron Forest jogging closer to her.

She smiled, turning to face him. Myron was a friend of her ex. They used to be roommates when Felicity was dating Cooper, and being her fellow hacktivist, Myron became one of her closest friends. He was one of the three people who knew about her being the creator of the virus that got Cooper arrested.

"Myron," she greeted. "How's it going?"

"Can we talk?"

"We are already talking," she chuckled, continuing her pace. "What's going on?"

The way Myron's forehead creased in thought told her that what he was about to say was something serious.

"It's just. . . ," he began. "Halloween's coming up and we're both going to be busy, or at least I think we would, and it's been months since we. . . ."

"Since we last saw Cooper?" she supplied.

He nodded. "I scheduled a visit two days ago. Would you want to? I mean, I'd understand if you wouldn't. I know you broke up, but you're important to him. . . ."

Felicity's face fell, looking down at the yellowing leaves surrounding her feet as she thought it over. "I'm gonna be lying if I say I don't want to see him."

"So that's a yes?"

"Of course it's a yes," she said, smiling now. "It's Cooper." There was a second of silence before she spoke again. "But I have to drop off my bike first. You mind passing by the shop?"

"Sure," he replied, and they went. After she had chained the bicycle outside the coffeehouse, she stepped in and walked over to Heather. 

"Heather?"

Her head turned up with a smile. "Hey, Fliss!"

"I'm heading out right now." 

". . . Am I supposed to know where you're going?" she asked cautiously. "It's your day-off anyway."

"I'm going to visit Cooper."

"Oh." Heather's eyes immediately shone with worry. "At the. . . prison? Are you gonna go alone? Will you be okay?"

Felicity forced out a smile. "Myron's gonna go with me. I'll be okay."

"You take care on your way, alright?"

"We will," Felicity said reassuringly. She began to step back. "Thanks, Heather."

They agreed that he drove the way to Iron Heights, and as they made their way to his hybrid.

"Ready to go?" Myron asked her. She answered with a nod.

On the way there, the two of them were quiet, aside from a few short conversations Myron tried to engage her with. Felicity kept her eyes on the road, a recognizable melancholy feeling creeping up to her. When the two of them got to the state prison, her knees faltered as she stared at the grey, concrete walls. She took a deep breath in an attempt to steel herself, but even after that, and Myron being beside her, she wanted to retreat.

After Myron had talked to Cooper, it was her turn. The sight of the glass panels drew out agonizing memories to her brain, but when she saw Cooper, and how he was evidently unharmed in any way, her feeling slightly eased up. Slightly.

He looked distressed, but then his expression softened when his eyes landed on Felicity. He offered her a smile.

As soon as she had herself seated on the stool across him, she took the phone to her ear. He spoke before she could.

"He shouldn't have brought you here," he said disapprovingly.

"I wanted to see you." Felicity swallowed audibly. The idea of where this conversation might end up sent a jagged pill to her throat, and although she couldn't pinpoint what exactly it would be, she knew that it wasn't anything good. Especially if Cooper was going to pick up on how their previous talk had concluded. "How are you?"

He shrugged. "The same. But I'm fine."

"Cooper—"

"Felicity, go home."

Her heart sank. Tears stung her eyes. A few hundred knives that felt like they had long been aimed at her chest now made their way though. Here they were again, with Cooper ending things and Felicity contradicting. It sucked realizing how she never had the control over the love she once thought was hers. And she was reliving it for the second time now.

"Look around you, Felicity," he said. "This isn't what you want. I know you. I know your dreams. And more than that, I know that you deserve better than this."

"I love you," she whispered, and her heart clenched at the pained look those three words had elicited from him.

"Felicity," he said, his tone pleading. "Don't." Tears glossed over his eyes as he spoke, his gaze never leaving hers. "Don't make this any harder than it already is for you."

She placed a hand over her face, catching the tears that quickly made their way out of her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Felicity," he said brokenly. "I'm not saying that I don't love you. I'm telling you that you shouldn't keep holding on to us. Because there's no us anymore. You deserve more out of life than just waiting for a man behind bars. It's not going to work. You need to let go."

Unable to stay upright, she let her head fall down, not for a second loosening her grip on the phone. She forced herself to keep her voice down as she sobbed, "I hate myself for letting you go through all of this by yourself."

"Look at me," he murmured. "Look at me, baby," She looked up, meeting his eyes. "It wasn't your fault. There's no reason for the both of us to rot in here."

"Fliss, I don't think I'll never be able to stand the thought of you being miserable over us. I want you to move on. And I want you to listen to me, okay? You're gonna walk out of that door, and you're gonna let yourself find someone who would make you happy, and you're gonna give it a shot, okay?"

She nodded, wiping her cheeks. "Okay."

"Promise me?"

She managed to nod again before the warden behind Cooper called his attention. He hung up the phone and stood up, and when he turned, he didn't look back anymore.

 

— ♠♥—

 

The woman at the register hardly even threw him a glance and simply muttered, "Welcome to Mugged. Order?"

Oliver mentally cursed. Unlike Heather, this one never seemed to like him. From her nametag, he learned that her name was Betty. He tried to play it off with the most polite smile he could muster.

"Um, do you happen to know where Felicity is?"

She looked over her shoulder, facing the direction of the kitchen door, and called, "Heather?"

"What?" Heather's voice was loud enough for him to hear. The door was pushed open, and she ducked her head out.

"You know where Blondie is?"

"Yep. She went out to visit—" She paused, eyes landing on Oliver. ". . . a friend. Somewhere. I'm not sure."

Oliver narrowed his eyes at her. He wondered if she thought he was stupid enough not to know that she was hiding something.

"A friend?" he asked.

She nodded. "Just a friend." Somehow it made him glad, though, that she felt the need to reassure him. She went back into the kitchen, and Oliver once again had to face Betty-the-pain-in-his-ass.

"Do you know what time she'll be getting back?"

She kept her eyes on the register, punching in something from a receipt in her other hand. She shrugged impassively. "You know, the fact that you don't have her number proves that you  _shouldn't_  know."

He winced, and then he decided he'd had enough. "You seem to have a problem with me."

"Listen here, Romeo." She looked at him with contempt; her attempts of making him back down almost visible. "I don't like you. I don't like the way you lurk around Felicity. I don't know or care about what your intentions are, but if you hurt her, I'll make bagels out of your ground bones."

And that was how Betty gained his respect. She was trying to protect Felicity. 

"I won't hurt her."

She shot up an eyebrow. "You sound so sure?"

"Because I am," he simply replied, and it was true. There were a lot of things on his to-do list that involved Felicity, but hurting her had never been one of them.

"I don't know what game you're trying to play here, lover boy, but I'm being serious. If our girl's gonna fall for your shit—and dear God, I hope she doesn't— that's going to be her call. But that doesn't mean I won't hammer out your skull if I see her crying because of you." 

The fact that Betty felt the need to warn him gave him hope that maybe he stood a chance. Who could blame him if he felt like he didn't? Felicity's response to his advances, no matter what angle he looked at it with, was all very telling that she was not interested.

Keeping his chin up, he smiled. He had never known how satisfying that hope was until now that he'd found a little piece of evidence for himself. It was enough. At least for now.

"I'll come back tomorrow," he said, making sure it sounded like a promise.

 

* * *

 

 

Oh and hey, say hi to me on tumblr: [supernovascreenlight](http://supernovascreenlight.tumblr.com/). :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaand, here enters the tag "Fluff."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments. They mean a lot to me. :)  
> Now for this chapter, I'm not really sure what to say. I have been having panic attacks today and have been out of my element for days. But I'll finish this I swear.  
> Again, happy reading! Thanks again for the love. ♥

 

At Heather's signal, Felicity pressed _Play_ on the stereo. The soft music filled the room. At the request of Betty's boyfriend Matt a little more than five minutes ago, the customers had agreed to conspire with his plot to pull off his mushy-but-nevertheless-well-thought-through Wedding Proposal of the Year. 

The room was dark, apart from a spotlight that was focused on a huge, red heart-shaped piece of props with letters that spelled "Betty" on it.

Felicity had to hand it to Matt. Had she not witnessed his charms (which involved a free pastry bribe, but let's give him some credit), the cooperative behavior of the people in this room would have been enough to send her questioning life.

She wasn't sure if it was just her recently-developed cynicism, but the whole thing seemed inappropriate for her. Why? Because while there were hearts and flowers inside the coffee shop right now, right outside were the orange, glaring pumpkins. In no less than two weeks from now, it would be Halloween, and here they were—on a scheme to get a hopefully clueless woman to say yes to a man about to drag her into the blissful realms of matrimony. . . which Felicity had never really seen much of growing up. Okay, she was being a cynic.

Managing to twist her lips into a smile, Felicity rubbed a hand over Heather's shoulder, who seemed to have the potential to drown everyone in the room with her tears minutes from now. With everyone else, Felicity watched Betty walk into the coffeehouse with a confused look on her face. From the shadows, Matt met her halfway, and there they stood: right in front of the illuminated, Betty-labeled heart.

And while on television, a woman would cover her mouth in shock and dramatically gasp as the love of her life dropped on one knee and held a velvet box in front of her, Betty was a bit different. She was surprised, alright, but her eyes showing an amused version of _What-the-hell-are-you-doing?_. No drama. But full of love. Bett was no gusher. She rarely ever showed emotions at all. Well, except for the her constant annoyance to basically everything, that was.

Felicity attuned her attention back to the present, and she realized her ears missed most of Matt's speech.

". . . . Will you marry me?"

Heather sobbed loudly, leaning on Felicity's shoulder. 

"Well, you're the one of the three people who can stand my attitude," Betty said with a shrug, and then a laugh to which the crowd joined in. A smile spread wide on her face. For someone who hardly ever did it, Felicity found it too precious not to watch. "So okay. Yes."

The whole café went filled with applause, just as the lights were switched back on. Matt got to his feet and kissed Betty, pure bliss written all over their faces. The way they held each other in their arms made Felicity smile, too, remembering Cooper's touch and his face, but this time the memory of his kiss felt vague and shadowed by another. A more recent, stolen one.

Her stomach turned, and with sheer determination she forced the thought out of her mind. Forced Oliver out of her mind. But damn it she was only human.

_You're gonna let yourself find someone who would make you happy._

The moment those words came out of Cooper's mouth yesterday, as they sat face-to-face with a glass barrier, Felicity's heart drummed, too hard that the unexpected fluttering sent ripples down her stomach, making it tumble. You see, finding someone wasn't the problem; it was if she would let herself believe that she could. And for a second there, she did, and all the arrows pointed to a tall, painfully good-looking blond.

"Blondie!" Betty exclaimed, yanking her out of her musings. Behind her was Matt, whose eyes were fixed on his just-proposed-to fiancée. "You okay?"

Felicity took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm fine." She lit up. Betty's rare cheerfulness was always contagious. "Congratulations! I'm so happy for you."

The woman pulled her into a hug, running a hand on her back. "Thanks, Blondie."

"You're gonna leave the coffeehouse to the two of us," Heather gushed. "And Flissy's got classes, so what's that gonna leave me with?"

"Oh, Heather, will you please cut it," she answered calmly, pulling away from Felicity to give the redhead a squeeze.

"You're not resigning, are you?" Felicity asked. "I mean, you're marrying Mr and Mrs Miller's remaining child, so . . . ."

Betty shrugged. "We haven't really discussed about that." Heather tightened her arms, eliciting an eye roll from Bett.

 

After all the customers had gone, the four of them enjoyed a bottle of champagne that Matt had brought. They laughed and talked and drank, and after all of that, Matt and Betty had gone off to spend the rest of the night by their own, leaving Heather and Felicity to clean up and close. 

"I'll take care of this," Felicity said to Heather, gesturing toward the tables as she headed to grab a rag and a spray from the cabinet.

Heather nodded in understanding. Felicity hated cleaning the kitchen, especially on days when Heather baked. Because when Heather did bake or cook anything at all, afterward the kitchen would look more like there had been a food fight inside than utilized to create confections and pastries. Man, that girl was messy. 

"I'll just get my cell phone upstairs," said Heather before faltering her way out of the room. Unlike Betty, who could probably finish three whole kegs of beer and still stand straight on her feet, Heather was a mush for alcohol. 

A few minutes later, the door chimed, but Felicity didn't turn, knowing that it was just Heather. But when "Heather" spoke, her voice was thick and too close, close enough to make Felicity jump and yelp.

"I need to talk to you."

She clutched her heart, whirling around to face Oliver. "Oliver," she breathed out, calming herself down. "You _need_ to stop startling me." When he didn't speak, like the brooder that he was, she asked, "What is it?"

With a mere blink as warning, he said, "Your boyfriend is cheating on you."

She widened her eyes, rising her eyebrows. Two flute glasses of champagne was definitely _not_ enough to get her hearing slurred. " _What_?"

"You heard me. He's cheating on you."

Felicity tilted her head to a side, narrowing her eyes. "Um, who?"

His demeanor changed, as if her cluelessness was meant to be a good thing. The gloom that veiled his eyes not a minute ago vanished. "Your boyfriend. . . ? The one you ditched me for last Monday."

"Monday. . . .Oh." And then it clicked. A laugh escaped her lips. " _Myron_?" She saw the relief flash in his features, and he relaxed as if he had blew out a breath he had been holding for too long. "Myron is  _not_  my boyfriend. . . ." She trailed off, narrowing her eyes at him. Glaring at him sharply, she gasped.

"You were  _stalking_  me!?" He backed away. Smart move. She frowned even more. "And you were stalking Myron! You can't get any creepier than this, can you?"

"I wasn't stalking you, I was following you!"

She turned her back on him and went on with her job. It didn't surprise her anymore when he stepped in front of her, the action so much like an instinct. "A-plus on the paraphrasing, Oliver."

His expression softened. "I followed you that day because I wanted to apologize." 

She crossed her arms over her chest, raising one eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Apologize for what?"

"I kissed you."

 _Of course._ The audience, Tommy Merlyn, a scene. . . . What a way to show the I-Can-Get-Into-Anyone's-Pants powers of Oliver Queen. Disgusting. She didn't speak and motioned to walk past him, but his large frame stepped in front of her.

"I'm sorry I kissed you."

"Oh, Mr. Queen, believe me, I'm a _lot_ more sorry than you are."

"I'm not saying that I regret it, because I don't. But I'm sorry if I offended you in any way."

She glared at him. "What happened to respecting someone's personal space?"

"Felicity, I didn't do that to disrespect you."

"Ugh," she groaned, rolling her eyes. "Do I even want to hear your reason? It's obvious, isn't it? How much did you win? Or did you lose?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm not an idiot, Oliver, I know you kissed me to prove a point to your best friend." She looked away.

He was silent. At one moment, he was staring at her with a dumbfounded expression, and at another, anger filled his face.

" _What_?" he hissed, face contorted with rage.

"That was a show, right? To prove everyone that what Ollie wants, Ollie gets. Well, seems like you were wrong. You still are."

"Will you please just. . . ." He pulled at his hair, confusion and frustration written all over his features. "Just  _shut up_ , okay?"

Her eyebrows shot up. She took a step forward, ready to lunge at him. "Excuse me?"

He ignored her advances. "I already told you I didn't do it to disrespect you. I don't know where you got the idea that I kissed you to win a bet, but that is  _not_  fucking true!" He desperately fumbled for words, trying to search through the anger that veiled his brain. "You. . . you jump into my life out of nowhere and then for some reason I can't figure out, you hate me. You walk around ignoring me, you avoid me, you don't talk to me, you practically told me you wanted me dead! I didn't know what else to do to get your attention! I just wanted you to shut up and  _listen_  for once!"

She went still, her mouth slightly falling open. She couldn't look away from his eyes, and gradually their gazes began to brew a heat so unfamiliar to Felicity that it frightened her as soon as she felt it. After a minute of a staring contest, she gathered enough strength to look away and wave him off. "I have no time for this."

"See? You're doing it again!"

"What do you expect me to say?"

"To be honest, I'm not expecting you to say anything. I just want you to stop avoiding me. I want to know you, okay? I wanna figure you out, Felicity, because God knows you're the first woman to ever drive me this crazy."

The door dinged, causing the two of them to flinch away from each other. Poor him and his ruined moment.

"Oh." Heather planted her feet on the doorway, hesitating to move on.

"Go ahead, Heather," Felicity said. After Heather was out of sight, the heat came back, making her fidget as she stood.

 _Give it a shot_ , Cooper's words rang in her brain. _Not yet_ , she countered. "What. . . ," she mumbled. "Now you wanna be friends?"

Oliver huffed out a breath, his face hopeless and frustrated. "You just don't know how to listen, do you?"

She didn't speak, not trusting her mouth. Time seemed to stop as she waited for him to say something. Something else. She looked up at him, searching his eyes.

Felicity was torn in two deep inside. A half of her wondered if he meant his words as seriously as it hit her, while another sought for an evidence that he lied. Somehow, she found both of those things roads she was not yet ready to go to.

"Fine," he said. "I could settle for friends."

Neither. It felt as if a weight was lifted off of Felicity. She smiled at him.

He stared at the floor, and then he looked at her, the corners of his mouth turned up. "So," he began.

"Hmm?"

"Can we go out tonight? For ice cream or something. . . ." He spoke carefully, as if sizing up how she was going to react. "Friends hang out, right?"

Still smiling, she nodded. "Okay."

"I'll get that," he said, taking the tray from the table.

"Do you know what you're doing?"

"Um. No."

She laughed. "Then leave it alone. Take a seat and wait for me."

She took the tray from his hands and went to the trash bin, disposing of the plastic cups into the recyclables. She glanced at him over her shoulder as she pushed past the kitchen door, and saw him watching her. She rolled her eyes, feeling skittish as she walked in to find Heather standing by the oven, arms folded in front of her.

Felicity walked past her as she took off her apron. She hung it on the wall-mounted rack, ignoring the watchful eyes she felt.

"Going somewhere?" Heather finally asked.

"I'm having burgers for dinner."

"With Oliver?"

Felicity nodded once. "With Oliver."

Before she could say more, Felicity turned around and walked out.

Oliver was there, hands in his pockets as he leaned backwards on the counter. He took a step closer to her and held out his hand, and it took her a second before deciding to take it. As friends.

 

— ♠♥ —

 

It was easy; the way they walked along the streets, side to side as the cold wind blew past them on their way to a burger joint. Oliver, however, did not let go of her hand, but she did not seem to mind, and for that he felt grateful. Of all the women that had come in and gone from his life, he had done this, but the instant Felicity's hand touched his, the whole thing felt new; unexperienced. Sensations attacked him all through his nerves and it had taken him all of his focus not to screw this up and discover what it would feel like if it was her lips that touched with his.

In dire need of a distraction, he spoke.

"So he's not your boyfriend."

"Yep. Myron's a friend," she explained. "We've been friends for years now, ever since. . . first year. Another, um. . . friend of mine knows him." Noticing the many pauses in her sentence he opened his mouth to ask, but she began again, diverting his attention. "And that girl you saw with him, that was his girlfriend, Sarah. I guess you could say we're good acquaintances. . . if that's a thing."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Wow."

She arched up an eyebrow. "Wow?"

"I kept my distance, Felicity, because I thought you were with him."

"I don't understand."

"I didn't want to stand in the way."

Felicity leaned back, eyebrows raised. "A little too egotistical, are we?"

He chose to tease her. "Felicity, I felt you shiver when I kissed you."

Her mouth fell open, appalled. _"_ _That_  was disgust."

"No it wasn't. I could tell."

"You know what? On second thought, I want to go home." She tried to pull back her hand, but he tightened his grip on it, tugging her closer.

"Alright, alright, I won't bring it up again!"

She sighed deeply, rolling her eyes at him for the hundredth time today.

He had to let her go when they reached the fast food restaurant. The air made his hand feel cold and hollow without her skin against it. He opened the door for her and motioned for her to go inside, with him following right behind. Oliver made her wait in one of the booths as he ordered for their meal. And of course, he paid. He returned with two burger meals and two bowls of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

After he had set the tray on the table, Felicity blinked at him.

"What?" he asked curiously as he sat. His face fell. "Oh, you hate mint? I'm sorry, I'll just—"

"Actually I'm. . . surprised you got my favorite," she said with a chuckle.

He beamed. "Good to finally know we have something in common."

When he was sure she was watching him , he let his eyes travel down, lips pursing in thought.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"I want to sit next to you, but I also like seeing your face from here."

She snorted. _Stupid, adorable sap_. "Just stay where you are." 

"Next time then." She opened her mouth to counter, but he held up his hand. "Yes, there will be a next time."

"Oliver. . . ," she said, conflicted.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked. "Why were you so pissed at me when I was going to take you for lunch?"

She sighed, straightening her spine. "I didn't like you barging in and assuming I would spend time with you when you never really asked me if I  _wanted_  to."

A wave of relief washed over him. She wasn't avoiding him because she was disgusted by his reputation, even though it would have been understandable if she was. She didn't hate him. She just didn't like the way he approached her.

 _Aaand_ then he felt guilty.

"I didn't ask you?"

"You didn't. You asked Heather if you could ' _borrow'_  me," She made air quotes at the word. "which, by the way, is repulsive in my book of how to be asked out, she said yes and then you walked out."

"Would you have said yes?"

"That's not the point, but no."

Oliver's mouth snapped shut, looking down. It did hurt, though. "Alright, I'm sorry."

"Oh, I am  _tired_ of hearing your apologies," she groaned, sagging her shoulders. "That's it—I'm switching topics. Where are you from?"

He shot up an eyebrow, dubious.

"But I heard Betty mention once that you were from. . . Starling?" She pulled her eyebrows together. "I'm not sure."

"Are you telling me you have never heard of my name before we met?"

She lifter her chin, grinning at him. "Oh, I _have_ , Mr. Queen," she said in a tone that had Oliver's mouth going dry. He took the chance to swallow when she looked away and shrugged. "But, hate to break it to you, it never piqued my attention."

"Not even Tommy?"

She shook her head. "Nope."

"You're trying to tell me you don't hear the gossips?"

"I hear them, but I don't believe them." He smiled, but she went on, as if unable to stop herself. "Unless of course, you want me to believe that you're the glorious sex god that makes women ache just by staring at you." She took a sip of her soda, and then she stopped dead, realizing what she just said. "Not that I want you to prove me, because I don't. And I'm not one of those horny little puppies who chase after you. Girls. Not puppies because I can guess that you don't prove your sexual prowess to animals and dear Bill Gates I think I just made the name of precious little puppies revolting."

He restrained himself from laughing, and instead only watched her hand flying to cover her red face. 

"I _am_ from Starling City. You?"

She didn't look up. "Vegas."

"Felicity," he said to call her attention. "Look at me."

"Maybe later when I've recharged my dignity," she grumbled. 

He laughed. It was a laugh so genuine she had to stifle her smile. "Alright, ask me another question." He waited patiently until she looked up, the blush fading from her skin.

"What are you majoring in?"

"Business."

"Ohhh," she said. "Of course. Heir to the big QC, huh? You ought to realize how much power that is. . . ." She winced. Here she went again. "I mean, being in charge. Of a company. A corporation. You know, taking the lead." She clenched her eyes shut, mortified. "I'm going to shut up, my brain-to-mouth filter's getting worse."

When she opened her eyes, she peered up at him, and caught him staring at her in amusement. She was so adorable. When he didn't look away, it made her cheeks burn.

"You know, for someone who has a malfunctioning mouth filter, your hearing filter has ten times the capacity." It was true. About some specific things, she only seemed to hear what she wanted to hear.

She looked at him in confusion. "My hearing's fine. What are you talking about?"

He smiled. "Never mind."

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter! Yay!  
> And also, I was told by someone that Felicity seems out-of-character in this story... Well, at this point in her life, she's grieving. And bullied. But in time, she'll be developing the cheery disposition that we love once she's past the things she's going through. And Oliver will have a little something to do with that.

 

" _Again_?" Felicity groaned, rolling her eyes as she lay on her bed, her phone held to her ear. 

"Fliss, I'm a Chem major," Gail replied. "What do I know about that phishing whatever you speak of?"

"Okay, tell your cousin he's a freaking amateur on pranks."

"Fliss. . . ."

"Fine, fine, you can drop by here tomorrow night. I'll fix it for free."

"I'm so sorry, Flissy," she mumbled. "I just went with it—Jason told me it was for a research he was doing. I'll be more careful, I swear."

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

"Fliss?"

"What?"

"Are you mad at me?"

Felicity sighed. "I'm not. Just drop by, 'kay?"

"Okay," Gail said. "Thanks, Fliss." And then she hung up.

Gail's laptop. Hmm. It reminded her of the frat party in which she met Oliver. Yeah, she was pissed that night.

Hours before that, she and her mother Donna had fought over the phone, because Felicity stood up the blind date Donna set her up with, even when Felicity made it clear a day before that she was not going to be available, as Gail's laptop needed rescue.

The fight got her in a cranky, nobody-talk-to-me mood, and the phone call made her late for the party, which led her to getting on the nerves of a fancy car-driving man after she'd beaten him to the only remaining parking space.

 _Wait_ , she paused internally, her train-of-thoughts making her realize that she hadn't even apologized to her mother yet. She dialed Donna's number at once.

Her mother picked up after two rings. "Felicity? Are you okay?"

"Mom?"

"Do you need anything? What's the matter? Is something wrong, honey?"

The fact that her mother thought she only called when she needed something sent a hurtful twang in Felicity's heart. She really needed to make it up to her.

"I'm fine, Mom. I. . . I'm sorry. For what happened the last time we talked."

Donna sighed in relief. She chuckled. "I thought something happened to you! It's nothing, baby."

"No, it wasn't right for me to yell at you."

"My genius baby girl," she crooned. Felicity could tell that Donna was already crying. That was something she apparently inherited. "It was my fault anyway. I shouldn't have expected you to put a date first before your, er, hobbies. I'm sorry, too. . . . We're even."

Felicity laughed. "What? No way!"

"I'm just worried about you. Hey, if you ever decide that it's the time to date again, you know how to reach me."

"Mom," she groaned. "I don't —"

"I'm kidding, baby."

"Oh, and Mom?" 

"Honey, I'd love to chat, but I gotta run. Talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay. Love you, Mom."

"I love you more, Felicity." Donna hung up.

She stretched her arms upward, grunting as her joints cracked and unknotted. She let them fall on the bed, loosing hold of the phone and leaving it on the blankets. Staring at the ceiling as she lay, she ran two fingers over a spot on her forehead. The spot Oliver had kissed last night.

Friends did that, right? Forehead kisses? And tight hugs?

Of course. Because her relationship with Oliver was purely platonic, and would always, always stay that way.

Maybe this would be way easier if he wasn't so painfully good-looking. That was it. All physical attraction, because you'd have to be a rock to not find Oliver Queen attractive. She sighed. Physical attraction was easier to ignore. But that was not the case. That had not been the case ever since who knew how long. 

There were two, simple reasons why she had suggested the concept of being friends. By the sound of it, it might come off as an act of slight desperation and lack of choices, but it went a lot more deeply than that.

Reason One: She wasn't ready to date yet. Although she trusted Oliver, she wanted to take that step when she was sure that her emotions wouldn't mess things up. Reason Two: She didn't want Oliver out of her life.

But of those two, the latter was a lot more potent than the former. It never made sense, considering that Felicity wasn't really a person to need someone, and as in _need_ someone, plus the small amount of time that she had spent with him was surely shouldn't be enough to make her feel like this, but it was true. She knew that if Oliver disappeared permanently, she would care, not in a way that she would if it were someone else she had met a little over a week ago, but in one that would not hurt any less than how she felt when the most important people in her life had left. 

There was a line that she had drawn that night she decided, when they agreed to be friends, and she promised herself she would not do anything that would cause that line to blur. She just wished he would do the same. At least for now. She would be waiting for that time to come when she would be brave enough to, and she wished with all of her that she wasn't waiting by herself.

Felicity walked into the bathroom smiling. She tried to occupy her thoughts by singing the entire time she was in the shower.

 

— ♠♥ —

 

" _Friends_?" Tommy seethed, his eyes managing to shoot daggers despite their post-sleep haze. "You agreed. . . to be  _friends_?"

"I don't see anything wrong with that," Oliver said with a shrug, pretending to be nonchalant. The spoon made small clinking sounds as he stirred his coffee, walking over to sit on a stool across Tommy.

Tommy, however, looked at his friend as if the man had already lost his mind. "No." He shook his head. " _Everything_  is wrong with that."

"Tommy—"

"Look, Ollie, I  _appreciate_  how you managed to be noble enough and give her some space when you found out she's got a boyfriend. I'll admit, I was totally amazed. But  _this_ , my friend," He laughed bitterly. "This is bullshit."

"Why are you so against it?"

"Because this is fucking torture, you idiot! You like her very much you're two seconds away from admitting it to her, you know she's got a boyfriend, and then you agree to spend some quality platonic time with her?" His eyes squinted too tightly Oliver thought they must be hurting. Tommy shook his head in total exasperation. "No. That doesn't work. That never works."

Oliver shrugged. "She doesn't have a boyfriend."

Tommy almost spat out his food. " _What_? Then the guy you saw with her. . . ."

"Is not her boyfriend."

"Wait a second," Tommy interrupted, eyeing him suspiciously. "What exactly did you see the two of them doing that day you saw them?"

". . . They were eating." Oliver readied himself for the inevitable lecture. "And talking."

Tommy's face fell into a fed-up frown. "That's  _it_? So you're telling me that all the drama you put yourself through. . . was because you  _thought_  that the guy she was having a friendly meal with was her boyfriend?"

Oliver kept his eyes on the coffee cup.

"What the fuck, man, you had your head shoved up your ass all this time?" He groaned in annoyance. It was silent for a moment, as he prodded at his food, lost in thought. "So. . . . she doesn't have a boyfriend. Tell me again how and why you're friends? What is this, some diabolical scheme of yours?"

"It was her idea," Oliver replied. "I was going to ask her out, but the way she blocked out everything I said suggested that she wouldn't say yes."

"What?"

Somehow, Oliver felt calm. The recent truce that he and Felicity had recently made had made him feel as if a weight was lifted off of his chest. "I practically told her how I feel about her, but it was like my words went into one ear and then out of the other."

"And you're okay with it?"

Oliver nodded, his expression serene. When he looked up, and saw the perplexed face of Tommy, he decided to explain himself. "I realized that I don't want to date her right away."

". . . . I'm not following."

"If I am chasing after her, she pushes me away. She thinks I've only got the sole intention of sleeping with her, which I do have, by the way, but now it's just. . . one among other things." Oliver let his eyes back down to his coffee. "Other more important things."

"Important things like what?"

"Getting to see her everyday without her glaring at me?" He shrugged, the corners of his mouth turned up. "If I do get her to give us a try, I'd want her to trust me first."

Tommy gaped at Oliver. He theatrically widened his eyes and stared in horror. "Who are you and what have you done to my best friend?"

 

—

 

"There she is!" Tommy exclaimed, sauntering toward Felicity as she headed outside of the door that led to the boarding house above the café.

She jumped at the sound of his voice, and when she looked up, she had the same look on her face the first time she and Oliver had met. That angelic, startled expression that Oliver at times found adorable and endearing (and seductive, even, during his lowest moments), like everything else about her.

Upon recognition, she lit up, her eyes shining with honest joy. Oliver wondered if she would still be beaming like this if Tommy wasn't here. Maybe she found Tommy nicer than he was. Well, that was something Oliver wouldn't deny to be true. Behind the playboy mask, Tommy Merlyn was the most compassionate, forgiving person he had ever known. A lot of times Oliver had doubted he deserved someone like him as a best friend, as if the way Tommy could stand his shit wasn't already amazing in and of itself.

But the apparent fact that Tommy could make her smile _did_ bother Oliver. It bothered him a lot.

From the car hood he was leaning on, he walked away to join Tommy.

"What are you two doing here so early?" she asked. The morning sun made her skin glow, and Oliver had to focus on pushing out of his head the tempting thought of peeling that light-pink blouse she wore away from the view.

At first, the way she appealed to him had confused him a lot, because Oliver hadn't really been into those shy, good-grades-good-girl type. But as time went on, and with the realization that there was absolutely no way of getting her out of his thoughts, he just let himself get used to it. There was something about her that he couldn't quite figure out yet, but he knew that his attraction to her went far more deeply than just the mere appreciation of her beautiful face. Don't even get Oliver started on her eyes. And her hair.

Oh, if she only had the slightest idea.

"We just wanted to get some breakfast," Tommy answered, diverting Oliver's thoughts. "Ollie's too lazy to cook. And I, on the other hand, am a complete kitchen train wreck."

After a short chuckle, Felicity finally looked at Oliver. "Hey," she greeted, touching his forearm before she turning to start toward the glass door, with the two following behind. She looked over her shoulder as she pushed it open and said, "So what do billionaire bachelors have for breakfast?"

"If I see _one_ patch of dough in that fucking oven, Heather, I swear to God I am getting a new bridesmaid!"

The three of them stiffened at the sound of Betty's yell. She didn't turn to look in the direction of Felicity & Co., as she was standing on a stool preoccupied with replacing the light bulbs on the menu board.

"Yeah, that would be easier if you had friends!" Heather yelled back, voice muffled by the closed kitchen door.

"Um, Betty?" Felicity called the woman's attention.

She turned, and the moment she saw who Felicity was with, the smile on her face fell. She shot Felicity a knowing look, a hand on her hip as she waited for an explanation.

Felicity grinned, showing her dimple. Clearly this was her way of getting out of trouble. It was irresistible to Oliver, and he doubted anyone else could feel otherwise.

"They're with me," she said.

"I figured," replied Betty, hopping off the stool and crossing the room to the three of them. She faced Tommy, extending her hand. "Betty Adams."

Tommy shook her hand and quickly let go as the woman stared him down. "Tommy Merlyn."

After she let go of Tommy, she faced Oliver, and gave him a nod.

"We don't open 'til eight," she said, throwing a glance at Felicity.

"I was thinking maybe they could join us for breakfast." Felicity bit her lips, her cheeks rising as she pulled off yet another weapon of cuteness.

Betty sighed, rolling her eyes. "Blondie, it is very unfair how often you use those dimples against me."

"Which means I win."

"You go ahead and take a booth," Betty said, motioning back toward the kitchen. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Thanks, Bett," Felicity called.

"You should get sued for being too adorable," Tommy commented as they walked to a booth beside the windows.

She chuckled as she sat down across the two men. She winked at Tommy. "You haven't seen anything yet."

Tommy raised his eyebrows in shocked amusement. Oh, he thought it funny that she had just flirted directly with him. Oliver, on the other hand, did not.

"Ugh," Felicity groaned, closing her eyes. "That sounded wrong." She held up a hand, looking at Tommy. "Don't flatter yourself, Merlyn, I wasn't aiming to make a pass at you."

Tommy tilted his head. "Oh, you will, Smoak. One day you will."

"Don't hold your breath."

He leaned forward and winked. "Make sure you know how to finish what you started, Blondie."

Oliver cleared his throat, grinding his teeth together. "I think that's enough, Tommy."

Tommy snickered and rested back on his seat. He faced Oliver chortling. "I was waiting for you to snap, my brother."

Oliver pressed his lips together into a thin line, his clenched fists invisible to the two from under the table.

"Morning, Flissy!" 

Heather and Betty emerged from the kitchen, and Oliver and Tommy immediately stood to help them with the trays they held. Shortly after they were all seated (with Oliver across Felicity, thank God), they began exchanging the usual introductory questions. 

 

— ♠♥ —

 

"What do you mean you don't go to Halloween parties?" Tommy asked with crinkled nose.

"I said I don't go anymore," Felicity replied, chewing on a mouthful of pancakes. She swallowed first before she spoke again. "I used to, until my first year here."

"Why not?" He hunched up his shoulders, making hand gestures as he tried to make a point. "It's costumes and sweets and cheap drinks and drunk strangers. What's not likable about that?"

"It stops being likable when those 'sweets' include a pot brownie." She curled her lips in disgust. "That would have been fun, if I wasn't allergic to peanuts."

Oliver's eyes darted to her, and Heather giggled. "Yeah, Fliss texted me that night to pick her up. Told me to bring her epinephrine shots."

"Yeah, Heather, two years from that day and I still don't get how you find it laughable," Betty interjected. "Some dude tried to get her into a bad trip. I'm sure anyone can guess what he would've done to her."

"I don't find it funny, I just think we should be grateful her allergic reaction hit her before the marijuana could."

"Wait a second," Tommy interrupted, facing Felicity.

"What?"

"Have you ever been high?"

She shook her head. "No.  _That_  was my only encounter with drugs. And it was an epic fail, so." She shrugged.

"You weren't home-schooled, were you?"

"I went to public school."

"Didn't you have friends?"

"I had computers," she said with eyebrows raised. "I don't mean to sound pathetic, but girls my age didn't like me." She shrugged, pursing her lips. "Well, girls my age still don't like me now for some reason, except maybe Gail? And they couldn't keep up with my line of interests anyway, so that wasn't. . . such a loss."

"In short, she didn't have friends," Betty concluded teasingly. 

"Thank you, Bett," Felicity said, fluttering her lashes sarcastically. "I really needed to be told that."

"You didn't have to call them 'girls your age,'" Heather grumbled. "It makes us thirty-year-olds feel older. And Betty's getting married, so I feel even more left out."

Tommy beamed at the woman in question. "You're getting married?"

"Are you trying to imply something, mister?"

He laughed. "No, I am. . . genuinely glad for you. Strangers and all."

Betty smiled. "Thank you. These two here are gonna be my bridesmaids."

"You should rethink getting Fliss in a dress, if you don't want the attention stolen from you," Heather joked.

"Have you decided?" Felicity asked to divert the topic, turning to face Betty. When she rested her elbows on the table, she accidentally touched her hand to Oliver's. The touch, as simple as it was, hurled her brain into shambles. She had to close her eyes and rethink what she was trying to say. "The venue, I mean. For the wedding."

"My parents want it to be at my hometown," Betty answered subtly, smirking.

"Where?" Tommy inquired.

Betty threw a mischievous glance at Felicity, and then lifted her chin as she smugly told Tommy, "Starling City, California."

Oliver choked. 

"No worries, Queen, I'm not a huge talker," Betty said with a wink. "I haven't told Blondie much about you and your wingman's rendezvouses. Just enough to warn her. Which apparently didn't work."

"Betty," Heather chided.

"I get a say on who I befriend, Betty," Felicity said. "And as far as I'm concerned, I don't think Oliver should be an exception just because of the wrong he'd done in the past, which are things he doesn't do to me."

Tommy cleared his throat.

"And neither should Tommy," she immediately added. 

"Fair enough, Blondie," Bett muttered. 

Felicity smiled and aimed her attention at her empty plate to avoid Oliver's eyes.

"Oh, look at the time!" Heather sang. "We better get set."

The five of them got to their feet, with Heather and Betty clearing the tables. Tommy pretended to be busy with his phone, which left Oliver and Felicity standing in complete silence.

"Blondie," Betty called her attention.

"Hmm?"

"We cooked, which means you do the dishes."

Felicity's eyes fell closed, huffing out a weary breath. "Okay. . . ."

"And by 'you,' I mean you three," Betty declared as she appeared from the kitchen, pointing a finger to them. 

Tommy was already headed for the door as he spoke. "Aaand that is my cue to leave, thank you ladies for the  _ambrosial_  pancakes." On his way, he ducked his head to give Felicity a peck on the cheek and then continued walking. "I'm so sorry, Felicity, I would have loved to show you my dishwashing mastery, but I'll make it up to you!" 

He was out of the door before anyone could object.

"What a dick," Betty muttered, standing still. She shrugged. "Well, that leaves the two of you. And I don't want any of my mugs broken, okay? Okay." She started toward the counter, putting on her apron.

Felicity face Oliver hesitantly. "It's fine if you wanna leave."

He snickered. "What, you don't think I could wash dishes?"

"The dishwasher's broken." 

"He's not getting out of here alive until he's helped you, Blondie," Betty said from behind them.

"Felicity," Oliver said and put his hand on Felicity's shoulder. "I'm pretty sure it's nothing I can't learn."

 

— ♠♥ —

 

"You still haven't changed your mind on your Halloween plans?" Oliver asked as they stood there side to side, with him soaping and Felicity rinsing. From that stance, Oliver could smell the sweet scent of her shampoo every time he would turn his head to look at her. 

"Do you remember when we met?" she asked, her question taking him by surprise. 

There was absolutely no way for him to forget. "What about it?"

"Well, if you weren't so distracted by all those girls running after you," she said impassively, keeping her eyes on the cup she had in her hands. She was even more adorable when she was jealous. Or at least Oliver liked to think that she was. "you might have noticed that I wasn't really comfortable being there."

"I did notice that," Oliver retorted, leaning closer.  _But if you paid enough attention, you could have noticed how I avoided those girls so I could talk to you_ , he added in his mind.

"I don't really get along well with the party-now-party-later type. Quite honestly, I don't get along with a lot of other people, not even with my mother. But she's my mother, so we're stuck with each other. Not that I don't love her, she actually works very hard and sends me money even now that I have a job. Not that I love her just because of the fact that she sends me money,  I—"

"Felicity?" he stopped her mid-ramble. "Your point?"

She looked down, smiling halfheartedly. "There's this certain species of human beings who like to antagonize people who are trying to get through college minding their own business for some reason that I bet would never make sense. And coincidentally, this category of people comprise more or less half the population in any college frat party."

"Is somebody threatening you?" At the thought of someone hurting her intentionally sent his blood boiling in anger.

She, as per usual, did not notice. She shook her head. "Not _threaten_. They're just. . . they're bullies. But I can take them. But I don't want to get myself in trouble, so I just avoid them. Which involves not going to parties, obviously."

"How about you try to go Wednesday," Oliver suggested. "With Tommy and I."

"No."

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

"That's what Gail said two years ago, and I could have died if Heather came a minute later."

"That was the last party you've gone to?" he exclaimed, eyes bulging. "Two years ago?"

"Of course not!" she said. "The last party I went to was at the Delta Kappa's."

"You're cheating. You didn't come there to party, so it doesn't count. Tell me the last time you didn't go by yourself."

"When my ex-boyfriend was still here," she stated, fidgeting. Oliver looked at her with lips parted, unable to respond. 

"You mean he's. . . ?"

"No, he's not dead," she laughed weakly. "He's just. . . away." After having rinsed the last piece of tableware, she walked to the hand towels on the right side of the counter.

Oliver rinsed his hands, too, planning on getting her to tell him more about her ex. But as he closed the distance between them, a glint from a piece of metal on her left ear distracted him. Squinting his eyes at it, he identified it as an industrial piercing.

"Felicity?" On a normal day, his brain would have conjured up a mental image of how she would respond to him running his tongue over the small object. Okay, maybe the idea  _did_  cross his mind, but all of those had vanished immediately upon seeing tears glossing over her eyes. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, stepping forward to hold her arm.

She nodded, plastering on a smile. "I'm fine." Her eyes, however, were a dead giveaway that she was lying.

Oliver slacked his shoulders, giving her a knowing look.

"I'm not going, Oliver."

"I'm not talking about the party." As if magnetized, his hand rose to cup her cheek, and damn it all if it wasn't an instant addition to the many amazing sensations she was unawarely causing him. To his surprise, though, she closed her eyes and leaned to his touch. 

And then, a spark inside him ignited, and his sight fixated on her lips, every last bit of him desperate to tear that sad smile away from her face. With his decision made, all consequences be damned, he began to lean in.

"Okay, thanks Heather!" Tommy Merlyn's voice broke into the room from behind the closed door. Oliver and Felicity had already flinched away from each other when the said door was pushed open.

"Ollie, I. . . ," he trailed off, eyes taking in the other two standing in front of each other, both faces red, but distant and unmoving. "am _so_ sorry if I was interrupting," Tommy finished. Yeah, this really might be the day Oliver murdered his best friend.

Felicity turned to face him. "What's up, Tommy?"

"I, um," He gulped, and then met Oliver's glare. "Moira called. You left your phone. At home."

To Oliver's amusement, though, Felicity's eyebrows shot up at a woman's name she did not recognize, and she looked at him questioningly.

"My mother," he said, and stepped forward to kiss her forehead. "We have to go."

She nodded, exhaling a huge breath. "Okay."

Once more, he held her cheek, and he smiled. "I'll see you later."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! Thank you all so much for your kind words! I love you all.  
> ☺ ♥

Once upon a time, there was a man who had everything he could ask for in life. He had the money, he had the loving family, the friends, the perfect girlfriend. All those things were supposed to be enough, but still at the end of the day, he found himself dissatisfied. There was something lacking. Something he couldn't pinpoint.

And then the girlfriend wanted to settle down. "I want to start a life with you," as she said. Considering how perfect of a woman she was,—the same age as his, had a decent family, on the road to becoming a lawyer,—the image of having a life with her would be equivalent to winning a lottery to anyone else. But not to Oliver, it turned out. As soon as the suggestion of her moving in with him was made, he could already picture himself stumbling down and screwing things up.

Because he found something missing; something he could not name. But then again how was he supposed to ask for a thing he couldn't even at the very least identify?

He was lost. So he ran. From the responsibilities, from the expectations, from the idea of commitment, he ran. He kept running and running, too fast for a woman to catch up; too fast to have him belong to anyone.

And then came Felicity Smoak, a stranger whose blue-grey eyes were seas that took him in; got him lost. But not anymore was it in a way that sent him running, rather in one that made him want to stay in the water if it meant being with her.

Oliver loved Felicity.

That was a glaring fact that had frightened him in more ways than one, but the fear had always turned into a mere thought easily forgotten as soon as he saw her face. He couldn't tell exactly when it happened; it might have been at any of those points in life from the moment they met up to now, but the one thing he could tell surely was that he did not want this woman out of his life.

As crazy as it might sound, that was how he knew that this one was true. And for someone who was world-renowned for being a swine when it came to women, that was saying a lot.

And there she stood, laughing at whatever silly things the customers were probably telling her. Oliver smiled at the sight she made. Maybe it was her nature to have people wrapped around her fingers.

"Ollie?" Thea's voice from the receiving end of his cell phone brought him back to his surroundings. "Are you listening to me?"

"Yeah, Thea, I am," he answered.

"You are now. But for straight two minutes you were like, really quiet."

"I'm just a little tired, Speedy, I didn't get a lot of sleep."

"Why not?"

The truth was that last night, Tommy had brought home company from the bar. But there was no way Oliver was going to tell his twelve-year-old sister just exactly what his best friend and a girl were doing and how they made enough noise to keep Oliver up.

"There was a party at the house next to ours last night, and they got really, really loud," he said. "You were saying?"

"I was giving you the speech of the year and telling you to get back with Laurel if you wanted to. And that I don't like her that much, but it's okay or whatever, I guess."

He scrunched up his eyebrows. "You don't like Laurel?"

"Not really," Thea admitted sheepishly. "She's always this chin-up, goody goody damsel in distress. And she never get my jokes! When she does laugh, it's different. Like forced, or something. Like she's too conscious she has to always look gorgeous."

"Then why do you want me to get back with her?"

"Because you never go home anymore!" she whined. "You've been in college for years but you always go home because your goody goody Laurel's here waiting for you in Starling. And now for two weeks straight,  _two weeks_  Ollie, I have never even glimpsed your shadow."

"Speedy, I've been a bit busy."

She laughed bitterly. "Ohohoh. You are never busy with college, Ollie. Never."

"It's not that I don't miss you, but Starling is literally on the other end of the country from here. I can't always jump on a plane to—"

"It's never stopped you before! One call from Laurel and you're here in a blink of an eye. . . . What, you found a girlfriend there?"

His eyes landed on Felicity. He sighed. "No."

"I don't understand you Ollie. But if you don't get here soon, I'm going to the Detective's house and tell her to sort things out with y—"

"Don't," he blurted out before she could even finish. "Thea, just leave it alone."

Silence.

"Ollie," Thea spoke, her tone laced with worry. "Are you okay? You sound sad."

He snorted. "I'm not sad."

"No. Wait. Let me guess: You have someone keeping you busy out there, don't you?"

"What? No!"

"Yeah, try again, Ollie, Tommy already told me."

Oliver frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Thea. . . ."

"I KNEW IT! HA!" Thea exclaimed. "You gotta bring her home, Ollie!"

"Speedy. It's not what you think it is."

"What, like you're friends?"

 He sighed again. There was no way to keep it from her anymore. Way to go, Tommy. "You can say that."

"SHE DUMPED YOU?"

"Thea. We're friends. End of story."

From where Oliver sat in his booth, he saw Felicity getting into the kitchen. Glancing at the clock, he learned that her shift was done. 

"Thea, listen," he said, interrupting whatever his sister was saying. "I have to go."

"Ugh, Ollie, you don't listen to me anymore."

He chuckled, the sight of Felicity emerging from the kitchen getting him into a better mood. "I'll talk to you later, Speedy."

"We miss you here, Ollie. Love you."

"Love you too. I promise you tomorrow, I'll pay a visit."

"Oh, you better." And then she hung up.

Sliding the phone back into his pocket, Oliver stood up, and Felicity crossed the room to him.

She nudged her glasses with her fingers, smiling at him. "I'm not going to pretend that I don't think you sat there for fifteen minutes waiting for me," she said. "This must be important."

"It's Wednesday," he hinted.

"Do we have a regular Wednesdays thing?"

His shoulders sagged in impatience. "Felicity, just go to the stupid party with us."

"It's a costume party and I don't have a costume."

"Wear a dress! Anything!"

"I'm not going, Oliver."

"If I get you a costume, you're going," he said, taking hold of her hand. He dragged her to the counter where Heather was standing. "Hey, Heather?"

She looked up at him, grinning when she saw their hands clasped together. "Yeah?"

"I was wondering if you would, by any chance, have a costume somewhere in your closet that this stubborn blonde here could wear?" He tightened his hand on hers when she tried to protest. 

Heather's eyes went from Oliver to Felicity, and then back again to Oliver. A slow, conspiratorial grin spread across her face.

 

 

— ♠♥ —

 

"Heather Davis, if you make me wear that, I am resigning."

"You're a blonde, Felicity Smoak, it's perfect," Heather replied, straightening the blue fabric with her hands as it hung inside her closet.

"No."

Heather faced the door and yelled, "Oliver? She's being difficult!"

Felicity stomped her foot and hissed, "I'm not going to that party dressed as Alice!"

"Fliss, it's the only costume I have here. And I've only worn it once since I bought it in 2004."

"No!"

Heather snapped. "You know what?" She waved her hands in irritation. "The cafe needs me, the costume's in there, I've done my work here." She shut the closet door harder than necessary and walked out of the room, leaving the door open.

Oliver's head appeared from the door and he peered at her, lips pursed. He sauntered his way in, arms across his chest and his handsome face smug. 

"You pissed off the redhead," he mumbled.

Felicity let herself drop on the bed. She sighed heavily, her eyes drooping with exhaustion and fresh guilt. "Why are you so pushy?"

"Felicity," he said her name in that weird, gut-butterfly-awakening way of his. He sat beside her. "I just want you to have fun tonight."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, he thinks I'm the dullest sac of blood on Earth."

He frowned. "What? I don't think you're dull."

"Then help me understand why you think I need to go out tonight."

"Because," Once again, his hand found its place around hers. It felt nice. And weirdly enough, it had never felt unfamiliar. "you need to. All those bullies? Those good-for-nothing gossipmongers? You can't let them affect you forever." 

"What do you know about it?"

He huffed out a laugh. "Felicity, you're talking to Oliver Queen. I've been on tabloid headlines since I was first seen with a girl that wasn't my mother or sister. Take it from me, it'll all die out."

"Hopefully, they do too," she muttered.

He laughed, and then gave her hand a squeeze. "I'll be back at eleven," he said, standing up.

 

 

  
— ♠♥ —

   
"She's going?" Tommy asked, eyes bulging. 

"Yeah," Oliver said, tossing the car keys to the table.

"What's she dressing up as?"

"Alice, I heard. From Alice in Wonderland, I guess. Heather mentioned something about being blond."

Tommy laughed. "You wouldn't believe what Carrie's going as."

"Not that I care, but what?"

"A slutty cop," he answered, eyes coy as he grinned.

"Tommy, how serious are you two? Honestly."

Tommy shook his head. "Oh we are not serious at all. She and I know that perfectly well."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Right."

"What is that face, mister?"

"Nothing."

"No, no, it's not nothing. What, did Felicity turn you from playboy to dating expert? I find that hard to believe, since you can't even get her to go to a freaking dinner with you."

Oliver flinched. He glowered at Tommy. Clenching his fists, he headed for his bedroom.

"Look, Ollie. . . ," Tommy called. "I'm sorry."

Oliver slammed his door closed and sat on his bed. Pretentious jerk. Oliver had known for a long time that Tommy had had feelings for Laurel. And yet the man kept on going from one woman to another.

Okay, that was hypocritical. His best friend was keeping his distance from Laurel because of the fact that Oliver had been dating her on and off for years. And yet, Tommy never confronted him about it.

Tommy's knock on his door tore him away from his musings.

"Man, I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have gone there."

"Just leave it the hell alone, Tommy."

Oliver shook his head and went into the bathroom to shower. 

 

  
—

 

Oliver stood leaning on the car, which Tommy parked on the other side of the lot.

"Ma'am, yes, Ma'am," Tommy said to his phone, facing the direction opposite the blue door of the boarding house.

Oliver sighed. With hands in his pockets, he waited for Felicity.

A minute later, the door creaked, revealing Felicity from behind it. And speaking of revealing. . . .

The dress, too charming for its own sake, had its skirt hanging just at her knees, conspiring with the knee-high socks to hide every inch of skin of the lower half of her body.

The upper half, however. . . could have been as decent, if it weren't for the neckline that showed enough chest for Oliver's imagination to go overdrive. The upper bodice fit her like a glove, accentuating the roundness of her—

"I can't do this," Oliver breathed out, turning to face where Tommy was looking.

"What? What are you talking ab. . . ." He trailed off, looking past Oliver. He blew out a whistle. "She looks. . . ." Oliver shot him a glare, and Tommy instantly rethought his words. "Decent. Excellent choice. I liked Alice in Wonderland. When we were kids. I like it even better now."

"This was a bad idea."

"What—why? She's rocking it, bro."

Oliver gritted his teeth. "That's the problem." He clenched his fists.

Tommy choked out a laugh. "I'm betting against your award-winning self-control."

The faint thumping of Felicity's heels resounded, stopping a good few feet near the car. Tommy ambled over to greet her. "Felicity! Looking great!"

Oliver finally faced her. She was biting her lower lip, her shoulders hunched up in awkwardness. She smiled sweetly. So sweet he wanted to taste it.

He was definitely gonna have to stay sober.

"Hi," she said.

Oliver's heart drummed beneath his ribs. He could swear that no girl had ever affected him this much, up to a point where he could barely think. Feeling stiff and unsure, he could only muster a tight-lipped smile.

Tommy was right: She  _was_  rocking the costume, but Oliver couldn't dare look away from her eyes. Having seen earlier how teasingly the dress's neckline dipped, he knew that giving her a once-over would be a bad idea.

Tommy stepped in, watching Oliver warily. He opened the car door to the backseat. "In you go, Alice."

Felicity nodded and slid into the seat, muttering a "Thanks" to Tommy.

As soon as the door was shut, he leaned close to Oliver and said, "Smooth, Ollie."

"Shut up, Tommy."

"Yeah, I could almost hear your dirty thoughts." He walked around the car and went into the driver's seat. Oliver rolled his eyes and got in himself.

"So you're two are soldiers?" she asked as they drove.

"World War Two," Tommy answered, grinning at her from the rear view mirror.

"And where's your date, Merlyn?"

"I'll be meeting her there," he said. "Told me she wanted to surprise me."

"Wow," she laughed. "Very bridal of her."

Tommy chortled, "Yeah, I forgot to debrief you, Blondie— _Never_  mention anything about marriage to either of us two."

Oliver didn't speak. His brain failed to compose a reaction to that. About a month ago, he easily could have laughed and agreed with him, but now he couldn't, for some reason. He liked to blame it on Felicity, being the logic-dismantler that she was to his brain.

As expected, the party was in full swing when they arrived. Strobes of lights in different colors illuminated the place. Skulls, pumpkins and fake cobwebs were hung on the staircase, ceiling and walls.

After Tommy had gone away with his date (What was her name?), Oliver held Felicity by the hand and led her into the crowd, giving her encouraging squeezes every time he would feel her tense under the scrutiny of the women they had passed by.

The men, on the other hand, made his jaw clench. He ground his teeth harder each time he would see some dude throwing her a lascivious glance at certain parts of her body that were a lot lower than her face. Oliver had to make sure she was as comfortable as possible  _and_  keep his temper in check as they made their way through.

"Do you wanna dance?" he asked her.

After a beat of silence, she nodded. "Yeah!"

The music changed into a song that was fairly familiar to Oliver's ears. The lyrics were not in the least bit helpful to his tightening pants. He could see her listening to the lyrics herself; the words sinking into her in a way that made her eyes darken.

He circled his arm around her waist, pulling her closer as the bass and the drumbeat built up.

_Let's get these teen hearts beating faster. Faster!_

With their faces mere inches from each other, he didn't look away. But then suddenly her face changed, her eyes darting to somewhere behind him.

"Look out!" she shouted as she jumped back and yanked him away from where he was standing. He whipped his head over his shoulder, instinctively positioning himself in front of her. He relaxed when he saw that it was just a man dry heaving the contents of his stomach onto the floor. Flashes of light went off of cameras, along with the hoots and laughter from the crowd.

"That was close," Felicity muttered, pulling back his attention. She looked up at him and snickered, "That would not have looked nice with your costume."

"I'll get us some drinks." He peeled his palms away from her waist and led her to stand next to the wall. "Stay here, okay? I'll be back in a minute."

She snorted. "I'll be fine."

"Felicity—"

"Fine, I'll stay put."

 

 

— ♠♥ —

 

"Oh my lord," a voice from the sea of people said in shock. "You're my soul mate."

Felicity squinted her eyes, and then as if out of nowhere, a man stepped in front of her, a man dressed as the Mad Hatter. Well, at least the costume she could recognize, because she had no clue who he was.

"Ha-ha-hah," she laughed, the sound too fake even to her own ears. "Nice."

The party lights changed, enough to illuminate his face. "Nice? This is Destiny, baby."

Okay, Felicity was not going to lie that the man was attractive. Tall, round eyes, perfect nose. And he looked smart. Maybe if he wasn't drunk, even more so. But she couldn't bring herself to pay attention. With her brain constantly occupied by Oliver, all the concept of entertaining other men just. . . felt wrong.

"Yep, I have to go," she said, turning to leave. "Nice to meet you, though."

Where the hell was Oliver? She craned her neck, walking toward the probable direction of the drinks (but really, she had no idea. She just wanted to get away from Mr. Creeper).

A hand on her forearm stopped her in her tracks. "Wait!" the guy said. Whoever he was.

She tried to yank her hand back, but his grip was tight. He closed the distance between them, his body smelling like tequila. "Don't you at least wanna introduce yourself?"

She shook her head abruptly. "No! Get away from me!"

He leaned in, now bracing both of her arms. He brought his face damn too close to her neck, making her freeze in fear of accidental contact. She shivered, and even more so when he spoke. "Don't be like that, Alice."

The darkness, the crowd and the loud music didn't help soothe her terror that Oliver wouldn't be able to find her. The realization quickly formed tears in her eyes. "Please just—don't," she pleaded, clenching her eyes shut.

And then he was off of her. She opened her eyes at the sound of an alarmed scream, and right in front of her was an Oliver landing punches mercilessly onto the creep's face. The crowd moved out of Oliver's way as he threw her assaulter onto a wall, followed by another set solid blows to the man.

"Oliver!" Tommy shouldered his way past the crowd and clasped his hands on his best friend's arms. After a few more hits, and the start of a bloodflow from the stranger's possibly broken nose, Oliver finally let go. He straightened up and stepped backwards, catching his breath for a moment. Tommy spoke to him, his voice inaudible to Felicity, but she knew that they were attempts to calm the man down.

Oliver spoke, his face still hidden from Felicity, and then Tommy nodded, glancing at her. Oliver walked out of the house.

Tommy jogged to Felicity, and then placed his hands on her sides. "We're getting out of here, Felicity, come on." He held her arm and dragged her out into the cold streets.

"Tommy, is Oliver—?"

"He didn't want to face you in that state of temper," Tommy answered.

She kept her mouth shut, keeping pace with him until they were by the car, where Oliver was sitting on its hood.

"I'll go find Carrie," Tommy said and left.

The second that Tommy was gone, Oliver turned, and Felicity had to wrap her arms around herself to keep from shivering. She licked her lips, letting her eyes travel along the pavement.

She saw Oliver's feet close the distance between them. His hands went to hold her by the back of the neck. He ducked, searching her for any injuries. "Are you hurt? Did he touch you?"

She shook her head, the tears threatening to overflow again. She looked into his eyes, overwhelmed by emotions of her own, and the ones written in his face. She could see how her being in danger scared him as much as it did her.

He let out a breath of relief and pulled her into his arms. "Oh, Felicity."

"I'm sorry," she said. She didn't know that it would distress him this much.

"What the hell are you apologizing for? This was my fault. I shouldn't have insisted that you went."

"None of this was your fault—the only person to blame here is that harassing creep."

He planted a kiss on her hair. "I'm sorry I couldn't get to you sooner. This is why I don't deserve you."

Her heart sped up. And she froze, his words knocking her speechless. But before she could verbally react, he pulled away and spoke again.

"I'll take you home, okay?" He ran a hand over a muss on her hair, smiling fondly at her.

She nodded, but also raised her hand to touch his face. "How about you? Are you hurt?"

He closed his eyes, laughing softly. "I feel insulted that you even think I am."

She frowned. "Jerk."

He shook his head. "I'm fine."

After squeezing her shoulder once, he let go. They went into the car and he drove.

"What about Tommy?" she asked.

"He's still with Cara."

"Carrie," she corrected.

"Whatever."

She chuckled, feeling a sense of pride at the idea of him being too indifferent to get the name of a woman as beautiful as Carrie correctly.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

Nu-uh. She was not going to tell him.

He laughed. But of course her mouth didn't listen.

"You are going to forget everything you heard, Oliver Queen," she said.

From where it lay on the dashboard, his phone rang. The screen read "Tommy."

"Can you please. . . ?" he asked.

"Sure." She picked it up and pressed the Answer icon, and without hesitation, she placed it over his ear.

"Tommy," he greeted. "Yeah, she's with me. . . . Driving."

She tried only half-listened as he talked, her thoughts straying from logic as they usually did whenever he was around. She felt a warmth bubble up inside of her at whatever was happening right now. Who knew that such a simple action could feel so intimate? When it was done with the right person, she supposed.

"I'll drop her by her house and then I'll get back to you," Oliver continued. " . . . Two PM. We'll make it. Yeah. Okay, bye."

When he leaned away, Felicity placed the device back on the dashboard and looked ahead. She wanted to ask what the "two PM" was, but she didn't know how to without sounding like a nosy eavesdropper.

So in silence, they drove. They were in front of the door to the boarding house when he broke the ice.

"The two PM is a flight," he said, as if he had just read her mind. "I'm going back to Starling."

Her stomach sank. "You're leaving?"

"Temporarily," he added. The weird thing was, he didn't seem to be taking satisfaction from her unrightful, irrational sad tone. It was as though he felt sorry himself that he was leaving.

"Oh." What could she say?

He sighed, and then cupped her cheek, his palm warm against her skin. And then there he was again—smiling at her, wistful and soft, completely unaware of the things that he did to her with the simplest of things.

His brows furrowed in thought, and then he leaned down, tilting her face up and leaving only a hairsbreadth of distance between their lips.

Just as she was about to lean in, his mouth settled on the corner of hers, pressing firmly but quickly. He pulled back and smiled again, leaving her in a whole new puddle of disappointment, frustration and annoyance.

"Good night, Felicity," he said, as if he hadn't just sent her heart doing cartwheels. He turned and left.

Felicity was annoyed, alright. But damn it if that kiss didn't knock the air out of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it! ♥


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealous!Oliver and Parkour!Oliver
> 
> Enjoy. ;)

It was Day Four without Oliver. Not that it mattered too much.

"Flissy?" Heather called from the other side of Felicity's bedroom door.

"Yeah?" Felicity said without looking away from the mirror. Arms raised, she twirled her hair into a bun.

"Can you be the one to lock the coffeehouse? I haven't packed all my stuff yet."

"'Kay. I'll be on it in a second."

"Thanks, Fliss."

"Yeah."

Felicity slipped on her glasses and painted her lips pomegranate red. She sighed, her lower lip jutting out. 

Getting out into the sun didn't make her feel any better. Having things to do didn't occupy her mind. Reminding herself that they were leaving for Starling (of all places) for Betty's wedding tomorrow didn't make her any cheerful.

Today when she woke up, she realized how much her mind had become this one, huge, catastrophic bullshit.

Four nights ago, she had been ready—too ready—to kiss Oliver and let it lead to whatever a kiss after too much unresolved sexual tension would lead to. All it took was one look in his eyes, the feel of his arms around her and his chest against hers—poof. She was ready to drop everything and give it all to him.

And she was okay with that. She wouldn't have regretted it if it had happened, and she didn't regret that she did wish for it to happen. That midnight between Wednesday and Thursday, as she lay on her bed with her costume and makeup still on, was the moment she had admitted to herself that she had feelings for Oliver.

She had feelings for him. Feelings that went terrifyingly deeper than she ever thought it could. And she was also okay with that.

Until her third day Oliver-free, she was.

She could remember waking up scrambling to get her phone. She could remember her heart clenching at the sight of an empty notifications log. She could remember calling him, and failing to reach him.

He was gone. Four days was beyond the waiting period of any kind of gameplay if they were in one. The past three days he never called, never texted, never showed up, and Felicity couldn't think of any reason why today should be any different.

Oh, she did cry alright. The first two days she cried tears of worry that something bad had happened to him. She was even caught by Heather scanning through the online news streams of Starling City for his name, but had ended up finding nothing. Those tears of worry had been replaced by something else.

But there was a very persistent part of her, although small, that told her he was coming back. This was the part of her that had conjured up a belief in him so strong that it surpassed logic. And today she awoke having nothing in mind but a fervent wish for that part to be proven right.

She sighed, her heels thumping against the hardwood floor, as she put the straw dispensers into the cupboard under the espresso machines. And then the door tinkled. The biggest wave of hope washed over her, stilling her in her tracks. Felicity knew only one person who went to the coffeehouse this early, and who would walk in regardless if the shop wasn't open.

With her heart drumming, she turned, and saw that it was  _not_  Oliver.

"I'm looking for a Betty Adams," the stranger said. He looked oddly familiar. His eyes, the brown of his hair, his nose shape. . . but Felicity's mind was too preoccupied to remember.

"Um, she's at home right now," she replied, and continued toward the registers.

"Do you happen to have her number?"

She huffed out a weak laugh. "Save it, Romeo, she's engaged."

He leaned his palms on the counter, leaning forward. "I'm her brother. Scott Adams," he said with his right hand held forward.

"Oh." That explained the familiarity. Felicity shook his hand, narrowing her eyes. "If you're her brother, then why don't you have her number?"

He grinned. "I never said I don't have her number. That was me trying to keep talking to you."

She raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips. Scott may have been born a charmer, but Felicity had had enough experience with that she'd gained immunity.

Scott ran a hand through his hair, his tall form towering in front of Felicity. "I wasn't informed Betty gets to have a day-to-day encounter with an angel."

"Okay, so since you're my friend's brother, I'll try to be as polite as possible. You can contact Betty and get out of here. For whatever reasons you're here for."

"I was sent here to, well, help her with luggage."

"Really?"

"Yep. Dad says she's only got girls here with her. And us Adams men, we're known for not letting women exhaust from the noble art of luggage-carrying."

Felicity snickered. "What?"

He bent down, close enough to touch her. "Oh, you're even more beautiful when you laugh."

She pulled back, but wasn't able to hide her grin. She could feel the heat rising to her ears. God help her, Felicity was a sucker for compliments. Especially those she found sincere.

"So," he began, not backing away. "You wanna grab lunch?"

That escalated quickly. She shook her head. "No. Sorry."

"Dinner?"

"Still no."

"You have a boyfriend?"

"I don't."

"Then why so difficult?"

"I'm not being difficult," Felicity said, her smile fading. "I'm just not interested."

"You wouldn't be smiling like that if you weren't interested."

"I honestly am  _not_ ," she emphasized. "And you're being obnoxious." The door chimed, and in her mind she did a triumphant fist pump, mentally thanking Heather for her incredible timing. "That's your cue to leave. Heather and I are gonna lock this place."

She tore her attention away from Scott and craned her neck to the side. A brick wall of surprise slammed at her upon seeing Oliver standing a few steps past the door.

"Oliver!" she exclaimed, as though she was a child on Christmas morning. She was Jewish, though, but that's not the point. She was about to walk around the counter and pull him into her thank-Google-you're-back hug, but she was stopped in her tracks by the look on his face.

He was glaring a hole through Scott's skull, the metaphorical red veil of anger that was normally supposed to stay metaphorical almost visible in his eyes. His jaw was tight, a lot like his fists.

Scott, on the other hand, was standing his ground. And for the life of him, boy did he look smug. Felicity rolled her eyes, growing sick of men and their irrational testosterone.

"Get out of here, Scott," she said. When Scott didn't budge, she spoke even louder. "If you're not out of here in five seconds, I will kill you myself."

He scoffed, but was sane enough to heed her words. When he was out, Felicity folded her arms to her chest, and she walked around to the other side of the counter.

At first, she wanted to hold him. At first, she was worried that something happened to him. At first, she wanted to wrap him tight in her arms or even kiss him if she got carried away.

And then she remembered that over three days—Three. Freaking. Days— he didn't call.

Oh  _boy_ , was she _pissed_.

They just stood like that, in silence and consuming tension. Even from afar, she could see a slight difference in his face—he had grown a scruff along his jaw, stopping a little below his neck. She would've wanted to touch it (oh how she  _wanted_ ), if it weren't for the idea that this beard was a glaring reminder of how long he'd ignored her. She focused back on his eyes.

Oliver met her stare and she raised her eyebrows at him, challenging him to speak. He did.

"I wasn't told you've developed a liking in flirting with random guys."

"Oh yeah? You would've known sooner if you called."

His jaw ticked, and his bicep—his ovary-detonating bicep ( _what was happening to her?_ )—twitched. And then he was advancing, his huge body looming over Felicity and she couldn't do anything but retreat, gasping when her lower back hit the edge of the counter.

She took in a sharp breath when his hips pressed against hers, the sinful friction sending her nerves on fire. The heat pooled within her belly, and then scorched its way up to color her face.

His fingertips ran a trail over the side of her face, making her breath, and heart, stutter. Felicity made a wrong move by meeting his gaze, those blue eyes that she was so used to see staring at her in fondness now hooded with lust and fury. A shiver ran down her spine.

"I don't want anyone else making your face this red," he whispered. His fingertips brushed down from her cheek, leaving trails of heat along her neck, her collarbone, her sternum, only stopping to rest over her pounding heart. "I don't want anyone else making your heart race this fast."

The hand on her heart abruptly grabbed a fistful of her blouse. "I don't want anyone else being this close to you other than myself."

A spark of rage welled up inside Felicity. Okay, he had caught her off-guard with his sudden jealously-induced manhandling, but how dare he! How dare he act all proprietary on her when all he'd done was tease and disappear?

"Ex _cuse_  me?" She pushed against his chest, but all efforts just seemed useless. "What are you gonna do?  _Kiss_  me? And then what, run off and brood and decide that I don't deserve at least a text?"

Oliver scoffed. "You have no idea what happened, and you have no fucking idea what I want to do to you."

His words had affected her in that special way he always had, but the pent-up anger and betrayal that she had refused to feel hit her harder. All those days of anxiety, the recurring sinking feeling that she'd had, how his actions made her think that this thing they had, whatever it was, was all over. She missed him like mad, and those three full days of nothing had only proven her one thing: He didn't care.

Enough was enough. She couldn't let him keep toying with her like this.

Hot tears burned her eyes. "Okay, so you  _think_  that it's okay to disappear for days and go all caveman on me when you decide to go back?"

At the sight of her tears, Oliver took a step back, realizing his mistake. His expression softened as he watched her with longing in his eyes.

"Felicity," he murmured. It was unbelievable how he was able to tell her a million different things just by saying her name. This one sounded like an apology; one that Felicity didn't want to hear.

She crossed her arms and wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. Oliver held her hand, gripping tighter when she tried to pull it back.

"Let go of me, Oliver," she ground out.

"You're not going to listen, are you?"

She looked into his eyes. "Oliver, you can't act like this. Not after making everything clear."

He winced, and she took that chance to yank her hand back and walk out of the café. On her way upstairs, she ran into Heather.

"Hey Fliss, I was just on my way to. . . ." Heather trailed off. "Why are you crying? Fliss?"

Felicity wiped her face dry and looked up, sniffing once. "I'm fine, I. . . there was. . . ."

"Fliss?"

Felicity forced a smile. "I'm okay. I just. . . I have to pack, too."

"What happened?"

"The cafe's unlocked, Heather. You should go."

Heather nodded, eyebrows still furrowed. "Okay. Betty went out to hire a driver for later. She and his brother are gonna bring home some food so we could eat before leaving. . . . Don't take too long, okay?"

"Okay." Felicity nodded, too, and then headed for her bedroom. 

  
—

 

Betty was howling in laughter as she walked into the living room with Scott and Matt.

"What's so funny?" Heather asked when the three approached the couch she was sitting on with Felicity.

Betty was red-faced and breathless, lumbering over to slap her hand on her fiance's arm. "Scott—! He—"

Felicity kept her eyes on her bag, fiddling with the zipper.

"Scott tried to hit on Blondie this morning!" Betty hooted.

"And what's so funny about that?" Heather asked.

"And Oliver Queen walked in and caught him in the act!"

"What!?" Heather hissed, whipping her head to look at Felicity. She never got the explanation she asked from the younger one as to why she was crying earlier. Felicity kept it to herself how thankful she was that Oliver had already left when Heather went into the café.

"Imagine my surprise with that!" Scott said. "He walks in almost murdering me with his eyes! And Blondie here told me she didn't have a boyfriend!"

Betty's laughter died when she looked at Felicity and saw the distant look on her face. "You okay, Blondie?"

Felicity nodded, biting her lips. "Yeah."

Betty shot a glare at her brother. "What did you do to her?"

Scott raised his hands up in defense. "Nothing! I backed away when Queen came!"

"Smart move. You wouldn't have lasted two minutes with him," Matt joked.

"I know that, Matt," Scott spat. "But Felicity here could have told me she has that chiseled bastard as her boyfriend."

Felicity flinched. She steeled herself, willing her eyes to keep the tears at bay.

The air went dead. Betty punched her brother lightly in the stomach to shut him up. Matt cleared his throat.

"So we'll finish these burgers and then we can go to the airport in Boston."

Felicity forced a smile and got to her feet. "I'll just get something in my room," she said and left.

  

  
— ♠♥ —

 

Oliver dropped to the couch, letting out a staggered breath. With elbows leaning on his knees, he ran both his hands over his face. He didn't turn to look when Tommy came into the house.

"Oliver!" His best friend ran to face him. "What the fuck were you thinking? Your mother almost killed me! And do you know how terrifying your sister can get?"

Oliver ignored him.

Tommy snapped his fingers in an attempt to call the other's attention. "I'm talking to you, Oliver! You almost get yourself killed, pass out for two days, and when I go out to fetch you some food when you finally wake up, you fucking ditch me! Have you gone fucking nuts? Where were you?"

Oliver couldn't answer, Tommy's words barely even registered in his brain.

Tommy groaned in annoyance. "But of course! Why did I even ask? Felicity could have waited, you know?"

"She doesn't wanna talk to me."

"You have  _got_ to be kidding me. You did go to her?"

Oliver nodded, his hands covering the lower half of his face, his eyebrows contorting with despair.

"Did you tell her what happened to you?" Tommy asked. "I mean, you bailed on your family just so you could see her and talk. That's pretty remarkable even in my book. Even if I'm part of the many people you ditched right after recovering from almost dying."

"I didn't get a chance to explain."

" _Why?_ "

"It's just—she needs her space. I've gone overboard earlier."

"Am I gonna want to know what exactly you did?"

Oliver gnashed his teeth together. "I. . . There was someone hitting on her. And she wasn't entertaining him, I know, but she was blushing and the guy wouldn't back the fuck down. . . . I reacted."

"How overboard is this 'overboard' you're telling me? Holy shit, Ollie, did you hurt her? Because if you did, I'd be the first one to drag your ass to the cops."

"No! Of course not. I would never do that to her."

There was a beat of silence before Oliver spoke again. "She's unhappy that I didn't contact her the past days."

Tommy rolled his eyes. "How could you have? You fucking flat-lined, she ought to understand."

"I told you: I didn't get a chance to explain. I invaded her space back there. She needs it right now."

His best friend shrugged and walked out of the living room. From the kitchen, he said aloud, "Call your Mom, Oliie. Get a taste of her wrath. You have no idea what I went through."

Oliver sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. "I will."

Tommy returned with two cans of beer, handing one to Oliver. The fizz the cans gave when they opened their own filled the room for a moment, and Tommy spoke after a huge gulp. 

"How're your ribs?"

"They're fractured and they fucking hurt, thank you very much."

Tommy laughed, and then his expression went serious. "When exactly are you planning to explain to her?"

"Maybe tonight. Right now, she deserves some quiet."

Tommy frowned. "What? They're leaving today."

Oliver froze. "They're  _what?_ "

"Dude, it's Betty's wedding tomorrow! They're leaving for Starling today. Do you remember Scott Adams from sophomore year? He's Betty's brother. I ran into him today and—"

"What time are they leaving today?"

Tommy glanced at his watch. "Plane leaves at ten, so. . . they're probably at the airport right now."

  
—

 

"Sir, you are not allowed to—"

Oliver shoved past the man before he could even finish his sentence. He heard an indistinct noise from his radio, a few more yells from the other guards as he sprinted away from them, bustling past whoever or whatever was in the way. Ignoring the protest of his injured muscles, he parkoured past the obstacles.

Felicity was leaving and was going to be away for days—weeks for all he knew—and there was no way in hell he was going to wait that long to explain to her. He had possibly gone out of his mind, but the nagging thought in his head that giving her space would only prolong her sadness crushed his heart. This couldn't wait.

Catching sight of her hair, he ran even faster, and the impact almost knocked the two of them down when he took her in his arms.

"Felicity," he panted, whirling her around to face him. He bent down to bring his face to the level of hers.

"Oliver!" she shrieked, eyes wide and horrified. "What are you doing here—How were you even allowed to—?"

"Listen to me," he cut her off. "And don't speak, for the love of God, I've got airport security running after me."

Her eyes bulged. "What—!?"

"Thursday night, I got drunk and lost my phone at a bar in Los Angeles and I didn't realize it until Friday morning so I raced back to that bar with my motorcycle, and because I was stupid enough to drive hungover, I crashed." He paused to take a breath, and she took that opportunity to yell a very displeased "What!?"

"It wasn't pretty," he continued. "And I was out for almost two days and the moment I was discharged, I boarded on a plane to Boston and took a cab to to get to Mugged because the first thing that I had been wanting to do the second I woke up was to see you."

She stared at him, her face dumbstruck as she absorbed his story.

Arms tackled Oliver away from her. Law enforcers shouted at him a "You are under arrest," followed by the codes he had violated and his rights of remaining silent. Felicity stood frozen, horror-stricken.

"Felicity!"

Oliver yanked back one of his hands and lurched forward, grabbing Felicity by the back of her neck and pressing his lips firmly against hers. He pulled away and smiled at her. "I'm in love with you. Safe trip."

The officer pulled his arm and cuffed him up the moment Oliver had let go of Felicity. He saw her gaping at him, in bewilderment, and then he was towed further away until she was out of sight.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments on the last chapter. I truly appreciate it. :)  
> This chapter is told from Felicity's POV. She deserves it, what with the whirlwind Oliver has gotten her into in the last chapter.
> 
> Oh, and we have a guest appearance. ;)

 

"Fliss," Heather called as they walked through the aisle of the plane. "Breathe, okay?"

Felicity could barely breathe as she sat down, her eyes void of focus. She knew that she had cried at some point since she lost sight of Oliver, by the feel of the tear tracks on her cheeks.

The scene played in her mind again and again, just as fast and all too sudden, sending her in a loop of thrill and a mental clusterfuck.

Oliver had been in an accident; one that was serious enough to knock him out for two days. The first thing he did when he woke up was jump on a plane to see her. Although his intention must have been too noble it was batshit insane, Felicity wanted to hit him in the head with her bag and knock him out for another two days. He was supposed to be resting, and yet he flew across the country to talk to her.

Truth be told, she also wanted to hit herself in the head. She was aware how her words at the cafe had hurt him, but she was too heartbroken (and uninformed) to care.

And then he stormed past airport security,  _in his injured fucking state_ , and the first thing he did was launch himself to her and tell her why exactly he had not been able to keep in touch with her.

And then he was being ripped away from her, at least literally, by law enforcers. The image had hauled her into a nightmare, numbing her bones and clenching her heart. It dragged her down into a twisted, most dreadful sea of déjà vu.

But she resurfaced. With his hand behind her neck, she was drawn out of the waters. With his lips on hers—just like how it went in those fairy tales—she was snapped out of the dark spell that her past had bound on her.

"I should've stayed with him."

Heather turned to look at her. "And miss Betty's wedding? Right."

Betty, Scott and Matt had boarded on the plane that left two hours ago, leaving Felicity with Heather. Felicity had to go through the security scans all over again, and had to be interviewed by the police before she was allowed to get past the gates. Of course, Heather wouldn't let her be alone, and there was no way that anyone of them would let Betty get to Starling City late.

Heather draped an arm around her shoulders. "He's going to be okay, Fliss."

"Yes, because 'okay' is what happens to people who get arrested for breaking airport security regulations."

"Fliss. . . ," she said. "Here's what you're gonna do: You calm down, we get through this flight, and then you call Tommy, because Oliver's probably. . . in prison."

Felicity sank deeper into her seat, clenching her eyelids shut as a flood began in her eyes. She nodded, willing herself to breathe in and out as evenly as she possibly could.

Heather looked ahead, the corners of her lips turned up. "You've smitten him pretty hard, huh?"

Felicity peered up the woman. "I don't smite. He's just insane."

"Maybe. But you love him."

"Yes," she said before she could think. "I mean, 'love' is a big word. Well not actually big, it only has four letters in it. And why do we even describe words as big or small? I mean, what—"

"Flissy, Flissy. You already said yes. And 'yes' is a word as a simple as it is. An affirmation. And you just affirmed that you love Oliver." Heather put her hand over Felicity's arm. "And 'love,' too, is just as simple. You do or you don't, it's there or it's not."

"And your point is. . . ?"

Heather winked. "You do." 

 

  
—

 

Felicity had been forced to promise to Heather to wait until they were in a cab before she called, as there was a huge possibility of her breaking down if something happened to Oliver. And Felicity's breakdowns weren't things airport passers by were accustomed to witness.

So the moment she was safely seated inside a yellow taxi, with trembling hands she dialed Tommy's number. He answered after a few rings.

"Yellow."

"Tommy!" she gasped.

"Woah, Blondie, breathe."

"Is Oliver alright?"

"He's fine, he's at the police station."

"He's in  _jail_!?"

He chuckled. "What did you expect, Felicity?"

Felicity pressed down on her temple. "You owe me a load of explaining, Merlyn."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oliver crashed his motorcycle. You didn't even tell me."

"Oh, well I'm sorry if you two are the most confusing couple I've ever seen!" he sneered. "I didn't know what you talked about after the Halloween party, and all I've ever seen you do is bicker and banter. I mean, I'm pretty dang sure about his feelings for you, but you, on the other hand, I'm not. For all I knew, you would have told me to fuck off if I told you what happened."

"Alright, I care about him, okay? Now will you tell me what happened?"

"So we were off to Starling, and then at the terminal, we ran into an old friend who now lives in L.A., and then we decided to catch up. He got drunk—I did not."

"You're full of shit, Tommy."

"No, really!" He laughed once. "I drove him home and sneaked him into his room. Thank god their house is huge. . . . So the next morning, he found out he dropped his phone somewhere and then he rode his Ducati to the bar, where he said was sure he left it at. And then _crash_. Literally. He fractured three ribs and was unconscious for two days. Did you know he flat-lined?"

Felicity couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't move at all.

"Blondie?" he said. "Still there. . . ? Felicity!"

"He almost died," she breathed out. "And now he's behind _bars!_ " She groaned in exasperation, suddenly feeling enraged and anxious and guilty all at the same time. "Were the doctors able to tell how hard he hit his head? Because Tommy, this—everything that he's been doing to himself? It's psychotic!"

"Re _lax_ , Felicity," Tommy reassured her. It didn't work, though, but he tried. "We've been here before. Literally. We aren't new faces to Boston Police Department."

" _How_ —" She panted. Tommy had no freaking idea—"can I  _relax!?_  He got himself arrested! What the hell is wrong with him!?"

Tommy chuckled—he actually fucking chuckled as if she'd just said a joke. "He loves you, that's all."

"Tommy Merlyn, that is  _not_  good enough." Felicity felt the tears pricking her eyes. "How can you be so  _calm_  about this? Oliver is in jail! An airport banned him for doing actions a hundred times more notorious than a terrorist's!"

"You should've seen his face, he was actually pretty giddy that he got to kiss you."

"He's out of his mind, Tommy."

"I can't argue with that. But shit only happens when you're not around."

"Oh yeah? Then what about the bruises he left on that creep's face on Halloween?"

"Hey, in my defense—and Oliver's—that guy deserved it," Tommy argued. "And what I meant is that Oliver's a lot happier when you're around. And it's in his nature to be an asshat. So when you're around, at least he's a happy asshat."

"I don't think I'm good for him, Tommy. He keeps on getting himself in trouble."

"Just to get to you, he does."

"That's exactly what I mean!"

"Felicity. Calm down. Really. He's gonna get out of there, you two are gonna talk, and probably have sex, and then you're gonna drive off into the sunset and live happily ever after. Okay? Bye now."

At the sound of the beep, Felicity leaned back on the seat.

  

 

  
—

 

The rest of the day wasn't fun.

She paced around the suite she shared with Heather, ate enough ice cream to last two days fasting, lay on the bed, pour her stress on the treadmill of the hotel gym, pace around more. . . . All of those just to fight the tormenting urge she felt to hack into the police reports on Oliver's case and wipe his record clean. She even wanted to mess up with the airlines' servers just to avenge him. But she knew that it was her anxiety that was making her irrational. It would pass. Or at least she hoped it would.

She was mad and had nothing or no one to lash out on. She wanted to do  _something_.

She wanted to talk to Oliver. Wanted to see him. Badly. Just the thought of how he must think that she didn't care about him the way he did her had vexed her to the point where she could barely function. She wanted to show him that she, too, was prepared to go to extremes just to get to him. Not just for show, but simply because she really,  _really_  needed to see him. For her sanity.

The two of them really needed to get their shit together. 

 

  
—

 

At an agonizingly slow pace, the night dragged on into morning. She and Heather were invited to the Adamses for breakfast. On their way there, Felicity had a glimpse of the beauty of the city, including the huge building of Queen Consolidated. Heather was sensitive enough to keep her mouth shut when they passed by the said location.

Betty's family was kind and welcoming. Felicity thought that Betty must have talked to Scott about her and Oliver, since he apologized and had noticeably backed off.

"Blondie, why aren't you eating?" Betty said from across the table.

Felicity shifted her focus, raising her eyebrows in question. "Hmm?"

Seated beside her was Heather, who sighed deeply.

Betty narrowed her eyes. "Are you alright?"

Felicity nodded, feigning innocence. "Yeah. I am. Just fine."

"I don't wanna see you wearing that face at my wedding later, okay? Lighten up. See the city or something."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Heather interjected, "Betty, maybe we need to remind you that  _his_  name is in every corner of Starling City."

"So that's it? You're just gonna lock yourself up in your suite building a fort with empty ice cream cartons?"

"You're right." Felicity pushed the chair backwards and got to her feet. "I'm heading out. Clear my head or something."

Betty fished from her pocket and handed Felicity a key. "Take my car. The blue one outside. The museum's pretty good."

"Thanks."

"See you later, Blondie. Don't take too long."

"See you." 

 

—

 

For some reason, Felicity took Betty's advice and went to the museum, only to find herself thinking of Oliver again minutes later. The silence wasn't very helpful in her plan to distract herself.

She got out and drove around the block, and found herself pulling over in front of a Tech Village branch. She was there, window shopping and reading some flyers when she noticed a young girl in a school uniform behind her. She almost yelped.

"What the frack, kid?" she muttered and walked away to another aisle. It took her two more to figure out that the girl was following her.

Felicity faced her, but her annoyance vanished when she saw the hint of fear in the brunette's face. She adjusted her glasses.

"What's wrong?" The kid didn't speak, but Felicity knew better. "You're lost, aren't you?"

She nodded, her mouth quivering as she struggled not to cry. Tears glossed over her green eyes. "I came to this woman at the store next door and she was mean, and everyone else is creepy so I kept looking for someone who could help me and then I found you."

"Hey." Felicity ducked and put her hands on the girl's shoulder. "Don't cry, okay? How did you get lost?"

"I was with. . . my mom." The way she avoided Felicity's eyes made it obvious that she was lying. Felicity raised an eyebrow at her.

" _Fine_. I was following my crush. He's an eight-grader and I stowed away on their field trip to the museum. When we got there, I lost them and when I went out, the bus already left."

"How did you get here?"

She shot Felicity a dirty look. "I'm  _lost_. I don't  _know_."

"You know, you should be thankful it's me who found you and not some drug addict."

"Thankful? You haven't done anything yet. I would be if you took me back to school so Gary wouldn't know and tell Mom."

"Who's Gary?"

"Our driver."

"Oh. . . ," Felicity mused. "You're a private schooler. That explains the uniform." She extended a hand. "I'm Felicity."

The kid scrunched up her eyebrows. "Felisty?"

"Fe-li-ci-ty."

"Oh. Felicity." The child took her hand and shook it. "Weird name. I'm Thea."

"Alright. Thea. I'm gonna drive you back to school and you are not going to sneak out again, do you hear me?"

"Okay, okay." Her face twisted. "But I'm starving. Can we get something to eat first?"

Felicity looked around, and eventually she spotted a Big Belly Burger three lots from where they stood. "We're getting fries and you are not allowed to stop me."

Thea beamed. She took Felicity's hand and urged her to lead the way.

The little girl gushed about her crush, named Nick, the entire time they ate. Felicity heard how the guy never seemed to notice Thea and how her mother didn't listen when the girl said it was because of her hair.

"My hair looks weird," she said. "It's curled up and just. . . blah."

Felicity snorted. "Come on, you're pretty. There's nothing wrong with your hair."

Thea smiled. "I like _your_ hair. Wanna swap?"

"It doesn't work like that."

She frowned. "Ugh. I was joking. I'm not that dumb."

"I don't think you're dumb and I was trying to bite on your joke. My apologies."

Thea lifted her chin and theatrically held her palm in front of Felicity. Her words were muffled by the food stuffed in her mouth. "You are forgiven."

After they had filled up their stomachs with grease and salt, the two of them walked to Betty's car.

Thea grimaced as she stared at it. "Your car sucks," she muttered.

Felicity opened the front passenger seat for Thea, closing it when she was seated in. She walked around the car and slid into the driver's. "It's not mine, but I'm sure the owner would love to hear your critique."

The child's eyes lit up. "Did you steal it?"

"Oh I _wish_. But no. It's a friend's. Buckle up."

Thea nodded and strapped herself in. "You know, I've always liked convertibles. I'd like to own one when I'm old enough. Do you have a dream car?"

Felicity shrugged. "I like small cars. The vintage-y kind. Maybe I'd get myself a Beetle when I'm done with my college loans."

"Wait, how are you gonna take me to school? This, er,  _car_  doesn't have GPS."

Felicity grinned, pulling her laptop out of her bag. "That's what this is for."

 

Approaching the school, Felicity slowed down. "I can't drive you all the way there, Thea. They're gonna look for a fetcher's ID or a gate pass or something."

Thea's face fell. She unbuckled her seat belt and nodded. "Okay. I understand." She reached up to give Felicity a peck on the cheek. "Thanks, Felicity."

"You gonna be alright?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Mrs. Mayfield's used to my tardiness." The girl picked up her bag and settled it on her lap. "I wish my brother knew you. Laurel never spends time with me."

"Laurel?"

"His girlfriend. Or ex. I don't know." She opened the car and hopped out. "Bye!"

Felicity was smiling as she watched Thea skip her way to the gates.

Having nowhere else to go and nobody to talk to, Felicity drove back to the hotel.

 

 

—

 

"Oh, Flissy, you look gorgeous," Heather gushed as the two of them stood in front of the full-sized mirror.

Felicity smiled halfheartedly. "You do too."

"Just think, if Betty got us these beautiful bridesmaid dresses, how much more would her bridal dress be?"

She laughed. The dress  _was_  gorgeous. It was grey, strapless, and left half of her back exposed. The floor-length skirt fell delicately to her feet. The color looked good on her skin and her hair.

Just when Felicity was slipping on her glasses, Heather held her by the wrist. "Lose the glasses, Fliss. Wear your contacts."

Felicity blew out her cheeks and rolled her eyes. "Fine."

After everything, the two had gone to the small chapel where the wedding was to be held. It was all simple yet it was all breathtaking. At the end of the seated aisles hung fabrics and handcrafted flowers of pink and grey, which were held up by thin, metallic posts that each had a bouquet of roses in shades of pink. It was all beautiful.

And although she knew it was impossible, Felicity couldn't help but wish for Oliver to be here, and the same thoughts had been flooding her mind generally every place else in Starling City that she had been to. In a place where he was born and raised, it was out of the question for her to not to hope he'd be here somewhere, in the city he called home.

She always found herself searching crowds for his face, and her heart would clench when the sane part of her mind would pull her back to reality.

The wedding went perfectly smoothly and in its own way unforgettable. Now they were all at the reception which was held at the hotel she and Heather stayed at.

Betty was standing in front, her face and her newly-wedded husband's unbelievably blissful, as she told their love story.

". . . I used to think that I would scare him away. Well, I do scare everyone away, I'm a grumpy ass," she said, followed by a chorused laughter from the crowd. "The difference was that,  _I_  was afraid, too. I was afraid that if he saw who I was—my insecurities, my flaws—he would leave. That was how I knew that I wanted him. I didn't want him to leave.

"And guess what. By some miracle, he wanted me, too." The crowd laughed again. Betty's eyes filled with tears. "I was there, safe and protected in my own little bubble, and he didn't ask me or try to rip my guard down. He waited. With the most ridiculous efforts, he did. Until came the day when I was so afraid to lose him, that I decided it was my turn to be brave. I didn't become any less guarded. But I made room for him. And here we are."

"You see, you can never tell when you're about to get hurt, and literally everyone is a potential pain-inflicter, if that's a word. And a world this crazy, it's okay to be scared and protective of yourself. But you should never stop believing that there's that one person for you. The right one. And when you do find him, you'll know. You'll know just by the way he looks at you, the way he says your name like it's the most special word he would ever say, how he leaves you shaken and disbelieving at how much he loves you, and you him."

Felicity had been biting her lips in an attempt to keep her tears at bay. They spilled the moment that Betty met her eyes, and again she spoke.

"So when you do find that person, just cut the crap and get him. You won't regret it."

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause. After raising her glass and drinking her share of the champagne, Felicity pushed herself out of her seat.

"I need some air," she said to Heather, and she left the room dabbing a handkerchief on her cheeks.

 

The cold air hit her as soon as she was out of the revolving doors. She wrapped her arms around herself and stepped further, until she was beside a lamp post, to which she leaned on. She took in a deep breath, closing her eyes.

"Nice dress."

Her eyes flew open and she jumped away from the post, only to see Oliver leaning on the other side. Taking one step forward, she almost fell, but his hands caught her by her elbows and kept her upright.

A surge of emotions rushed into her the second she met his eyes. His smile faded as he stood there with that special gaze and that special smile he had always had for her. 

Without any hesitation, she circled her arms around his neck and towed him down, and she sealed his lips with hers.

And it, by far, was the best way to have said hello.


	12. Chapter 12

  
He carded one hand through her hair, keeping her in place by the back of her neck. The other was splayed on the exposed skin of her back, the warmth sending little sparks of flame throughout her body, fueling the heat that was making the two of them tremble and moan.

Gasping for air, their lips parted from one another, but he rested his forehead against hers, breathing the exact same air she did. He pecked her once, twice more before he finally pulled away, and Felicity opened her eyes. He smiled at her.

"Hey."

Dazed, her eyes fluttered open. She didn't know which she should appreciate first—his mouth, his arms or his beard. She definitely loved his beard, cropped and what not in its own glorious hotness.

And she said that out loud.

But, how merciful of him, he only laughed and cupped her cheek. After a beat of silence, he said, "You were crying."

"Elizabeth got to me," she said, to which he furrowed his brows in confusion. "Betty. She was giving her speech."

"How was it?"

"Meh. Too mushy."

He raised an eyebrow. "It wouldn't have made you cry if it was. What's it about?"

She shook her head. "Not gonna tell. I wouldn't do it justice."

Tearing her sight away from his face, she finally noticed that he was in a suit, his bowtie hanging untangled and the few top buttons of his shirt undone. The faint glow from the building lights and the lamp post made the fabric, and all of him, even more handsome than he already was.

"Why the attire?"

He let go of her, one of his hands reached down to hold hers, and the other he slipped into his pocket. "I escorted my mother at a party. And then I begged her to let me go after an hour."

"Oh." Felicity gave him another once-over. "I hope you realize how impossible it is for me to overlook how ridiculously dazzling you look right now and I can't believe I just said that out loud." She snorted. "Nope. I'm not going to take it back."

He smirked. "I'm not asking you to."

"You wanna come inside?" She inwardly cursed her mouth. "At the reception. As in walk in. With me. Maybe eat, or drink. They have amazing red wine. I love red wine. Not that I'm giving you hints to buy me a bottle. But now that I said it out loud, I think I do want you to. But that is totally not my point." She shook her head, rearranging her thoughts. She sighed and looked him in the eyes. "We need to talk."

Oliver nodded. "We do." He tugged at her hand. "Let's go inside. Lead the way."

He was silent. He occasionally gave her kisses on her hair on their way in, wordlessly trying to distract her as the people they passed by almost fractured their necks looking at who was walking in. At him, they gawked. At her, they sneered.

At the door of the reception hall, he paused to pull off his tie and stuff it into the inside pocket of his coat.

They walked in, and Felicity immediately regretted not taking his hand in hers outside when she had the chance. She could only clench her jaw as the girls they passed by giggled (Yep. They did.) and whispered to each other. One even tried to "accidentally" bump into him.

One of the few who didn't seem to give a shit was Betty's sister and Scott's twin, Ciara. The girl even appeared to share the same sentiment toward the witches as Felicity's—thoroughly nauseated. Although Felicity hoped Ciara wasn't also jealous, otherwise it would be a  _much_  different story.

Felicity quickened her steps toward their table, uncaring of the fact that Oliver was left behind with a bunch of girls parading in front of him.

Kidding. She  _did_  care. But Jealous Felicity wasn't someone she knew too well, and watching all those women flirt with her man was not at all going to help her keep hidden that unfamiliar little monster.

A sudden vibe of possessiveness shot right through her, making her ball her hands into fists. But she kept herself from turning to look, and instead took delight in the mental vision of her sawing off the arms of whoever was probably laying hands on her Oliver. And Felicity Smoak had a very vivid imagination.

It wasn't enough, though.

"Felicity, I can see you plotting murder in your brain," Heather said.

Felicity huffed.

Heather glanced in Oliver's direction and beamed. "Oh, he's here!" Her tone dulled. "And oh, girls are flirting with him. He looks  _very_ uncomfortable. You sure you don't wanna rescue him?"

Betty, from across the room, laughed at Felicity. She pointed at Oliver, and with her fork she theatrically stabbed the air.

Rolling her eyes, Felicity stood up and turned, almost colliding with Oliver who was suddenly in front of her.

"You abandoned me there," he said, frowning at her.

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself. Who am I to interrupt, right?"

He scowled, and then looked at Heather. "Can you believe this woman?"

"She's jealous," Heather teased.

"I'm not—"

"Felicity, darling!" someone called. Looking past Oliver, Felicity saw Fred and Linda Miller approaching.

Linda wrapped her in a tight hug and pecked on her forehead and both of her cheeks. She let go, switching turns with Fred, who also gave her a hug.

"How have you been, dearie," he said, patting her shoulder after he had let go. "You disappeared a little while back. What happened to you?"

"Are you feeling sick?" Linda asked.

"No, no," Felicity denied. "I just needed some air."

"And this is some fine-looking air you returned with!" the old woman joked, patting Oliver's arm. She held out a hand. "I'm Linda, Felicity's employment mom. That's what she called me when I told her to call me Mom."

Oliver laughed, giving her a firm handshake. "I'm Oliver Queen."

"Queen?" Fred asked, eyeing him with disdain. "As in the playboy on TV?"

Felicity stiffened. But Oliver smiled, although she knew it was fake. "That's what I'm famous for."

"You're not trying to make our girl cry, are you?" Fred's voice shook as he threatened, "Oh, I promise you you'd get a taste of my fist if you do."

"Oh shush, dearie," Linda said, laying a hand on her husband's arm. "I'm sure he means no harm. If he got our Fliss to say yes, then he must've proven himself pretty well."

"That, he has," Felicity said proudly. One look at Oliver and she knew that their train-of-thoughts were on the same track. Although there was a hint of sincere gratitude in his eyes.

"You see?" Linda smiled fondly at her.

Their conversation was interrupted by the dimming of the lights. A slow song began to play in the background, just as the bride and groom made their spotlight-illuminated way to the dance floor.

 _There were bells on the hill. . . but I never heard them ringing_  
_No, I never heard them at all_  
_Till there was you._

"Oh, dearie, we must dance," Fred told Linda.

She smiled, taking her husband's hand. "Excuse us, darlings."

Felicity nodded, a tug from inside her chest making her smile as she watched the old couple walk hand-in-hand to join the other pairs of people heading toward the dance floor.

"Felicity," Oliver said.

"Hmm?" Tearing her eyes from the crowd, she looked at him, and his gaze knocked the air out of her lungs.

Was it ever true that there was that one person who could make time seem to slow down? Well, it was happening. All Felicity could do was stare back, standing in wonder at how deserved to be looked at with such adoration in his eyes. It was so surreal and unbelievable.

"Dance with me," he said.

She lit up, probably from the warmth that his stare had sent inside her. Ah, the weird things he did to her. 

 

— ♠♥ — 

His palms were cold, but in his heart was fire. His heart pounded heavily, but his head felt light. They were in a room full of people, but this woman in front of him had somehow eclipsed everyone else from his view.

It felt new and refreshing and unsettling and delightful. And although it never made sense to him, when she was around, he didn't feel like he had to pretend. There were no appearances to be kept up, no expectations to be met. He was just Oliver. That was one of the many things that made being with her so addictive to him.

They just stood like that, swaying along wedding classics, with barriers down and excuses forgotten.

With her hand in his and her eyes on him, things felt like they were in place. Or maybe they weren't, and he just didn't care, as long as she was here to stay. He sighed. It was a moment in life when pretending that she felt the same didn't seem too wrong.

"You look beautiful," he said, pulling her out of her musings.

"It's the dress. You should see me without it." Her eyes shut close, and she gulped. "Clothed. Like all the other times you've seen me."

He laughed. Her babble was one thing he was partial to when it came to the many endearing things he found in her.

"Wait a second." Her brows furrowed in thought. "How did you get out of jail? Oh my god, I can't _believe_ I almost forgot—I'm supposed to be mad at you!"

"Felicity. . . ."

"Oh, you are  _not_  going to distract me this time, Oliver Jonas Queen."

He paused, taken aback. "You know my middle name?"

"I haven't been stalking you." Her face turned sour. And then she was angry again. "That was  _not_  stalking—that was me losing my mind over your very sudden disappearance."

His mouth opened, but no words were formed. He couldn't help but smile.

"Stop grinning," she ground out. "I was worried, so what? Now answer me. How did you get out? How long did they keep you there?"

"My father took care of it," he answered. "I was there until noon today."

She chewed on her lip, a crease forming on her forehead. "Were you hurt? I mean, did your fractures hurt?"

"I'm alright," he reassured her.

"You know, if we weren't in public, I would definitely be punching you right now. You have no idea what you put me through."

"Okay, think: What if I waited until you got back? What if I did stay in bed and thought about healing first? That would've taken days, Felicity. I don't think you would've wanted to see my face, much less listen to me."

Her mouth fell shut. She knew he was right. "You're not wrong. But I just wish that you would've thought of another way."

"Obviously, I couldn't. I figured you wouldn't answer if I called."

She looked away, frowning.

"Felicity? Don't get mad, please?"

She looked up to meet his eyes. "Tommy already told me about the part where you went three sheets to the wind in Los Angeles and got yourself in a hospital bed. I also already know why you did a very stupid thing and ditched your medications as if all you got was a sprain. You had three of your ribs fractured, Oliver.  _Three_. And then, you. . . you blast your way through an airport scaring off passengers and alerting the police! For crying out loud, you spent almost three days in jail!" Tears filled her eyes and her voice quivered. "What if you stayed longer? What if you never got out? I almost lost it watching you get arrested—"

Her eyes weren't simply worried—they were haunted. Whatever she had seen in that moment at the airport had harnessed into mind a dark memory from her past.

"Felicity," he whispered. "Look at me. Hey," he urged, lowering his face so he could meet her eyes. "I'm alright. I'm here."

She nodded, sniffing once. "I'm very much over my quota of losing people I care about."

His entire world stopped. His lips parted open, astounded by her words. In a second that felt like eternity, he watched her eyes, searching for any hint of bluff. He found none.

"You're not going to lose me," he promised.

Again, he straightened up. He planted a kiss on her hair and then murmured to her ear, "If it was all for being here? Having you like this? Then it was worth it."

She rested her forehead on his chest and he kissed her bare shoulder, closing his eyes as he sighed.

They both looked up upon the sound of a throat being cleared.

"You mind if I cut in?" Oliver would have bluntly said no, if he hasn't realized that it was Fred Miller.

The old man seemed to be in a better mood. "My wife is dancing with the groom."

"Looks like you're dancing with Betty," Felicity said, a jesting threat in her voice.

"Damn right he is," Betty said, suddenly in view. "I think I need to stress some points."

Stepping away from Oliver, Felicity held up a finger at the bride. "Be nice to him. I need him alive." She paused. "That sounded wrong. Please ignore me."

"I promise nothing, Blondie." Betty placed her hands casually on Oliver's shoulder, just as Fred and Felicity were already waltzing away.

"Looks like I'm not gonna kill you yet," Betty said.

Oliver had to smile. He doubted anything could tear this skittishness away from him tonight. "I guess so."

"That was some stunt you pulled off the other morning. Heather told me Blondie barely slept that night. And in the morning, she looked like death."

His stomach sank. "What happened to her?"

"You know, there had been a number of less-than-happy circumstances that occurred in Felicity's life. And that scene you made at the terminal? I can guess how much of a nightmare it must've been for her. It's perfectly understandable for her to be unable to sleep after that."

Oliver threw a glance at Felicity, watching her laugh as she at whatever Mr. Miller was saying as they danced.

"She didn't use to be this smiling face that you see today. I mean, sure she's smiling, but that was her way of deflecting the chance of opening up. It was her way of dodging questions and disguising the gloom in her." Betty looked in Felicity's direction as well.

"But now it's just. . . different. She seems really happy with you." Pinching his shoulder, she prompted him to look at her. "And I don't want her to lose that, understood?"

Oliver nodded, dropping his arms to his sides when she stepped away, letting go of him. Betty was craning her neck looking around. "Funny how it's barely been two minutes and I already miss my husband."

He breathed out a laugh. He understood her predicament.

"There he is," she said, and looked back at Oliver. "I'll catch up with you later, alright?"

"Congrats, Betty. I'm happy for you."

"Yeah, keep my words in mind, Queen." 

 

— ♠♥ — 

An old, upbeat song began to play. The tambourined intro was halfway through when Heather shouted at the top of her lungs.

"BEST NIGHT EVER!" She staggered as she stood on the table, showering everyone who stood close enough with champagne from the bottle she held.

Most of the liquor were poured onto Oliver and Felicity. At first, she gasped, but when Oliver began to laugh, she snatched her flute from the table and poured its contents on his head.

He froze, and then shot her his Game-On glare. She backed away grinning, but he was fast enough to lock an arm around her waist. With his free hand, he reached for the cake on her plate and smeared the icing on her face and neck. All she could do was squeal.

Felicity was able to grab a handful of icing, which she immediately wiped onto Oliver's chin. Moments later, the entire crowd was engaged in a cake fight, and almost everyone had vanilla frosting on their faces as they each bid their goodbyes.

Betty's sister Ciara, who looked just as tough, was the one who dragged Heather down from the table and out of the hall, calling it a night for the redhead.

The look on Felicity's face was priceless. For a moment there, Oliver could only stare at that warm light in her eyes, a sense of pride and outright joy bursting into him at the fact that he had something to do with that.

She was still beaming when Mr. and Mrs. Miller kissed her goodbye. She looked so innocent and untarnished, with he way her eyes twinkled and her nose crinkled as the old couple made her laugh. Linda poked at her icing-painted nose before she and her husband had turned to leave.

Felicity's laughter was ebbing down when she faced Oliver.

"This might be a terrible idea, but do you wanna wash up in my room?"

He nodded, too dazed to think much. "Alright." 

 

— ♠♥ — 

It was supposed to be a goodbye kiss. Just a goodbye-I'll-see-you-again-tomorrow-so-I'll-just-peck-your-lips kiss. But it went wrong and yet felt so amazingly right. A slip of his tongue past her slightly parted lips and they were thrown off the cliff they had only used to look at from afar; used to wonder what the fall from such great height must feel like.

It was just supposed to be a kiss. And now here she was, with her skirt hiked up to her hips and her legs braced around him as he pinned her in place against the wall. Her breath was hitching and her heart was pounding loudly, as if proclaiming itself to be his. Just like the rest of her.

Thank Google Heather was brought to Ciara's room.

Oliver was leisurely taking his time tasting her neck, and it was either because it was simply his thing or that champagne plus cake plus her taste was a combination he loved. She wanted to think it was the latter. She'd be willing to bathe in champagne and cake for him. How was there even a downside to tha—

" _Oh,_ " she mewled. Her thoughts were cut off when he sucked at her pulse point, nipping at it and laving it with his tongue. And then they began to move. Quite honestly, she was scared he would trip or stumble the two of them over a furniture, so she just kept her eyes shut, imagining the inevitable awkwardness if he  _did_  mess up.

A laugh reverberated from his chest, informing her that she had thought out loud once again. Her back hit the duvet with a  _whoosh_ , and he covered her smiling mouth with his.

Nothing else mattered. Well, aside from the annoying fact that they still had their clothes on.

He leaned down to kiss her and she propped herself up to her elbows, meeting him halfway; their collision as beautiful as ever. And as if he'd read her previous thought, his hands slipped underneath her, groping for her zipper, and she arched up her back until he found it and veered it down. As he slid the dress off of her, he kissed every inch of her skin that he exposed, and she could only moan and bite down her lip, as his tongue continued flaring up her body with feverish need.

He crawled back up, cupping her cheek as he brushed his lips against hers with a featherlight touch, making her grunt in impatience. But boy did he have a plan. Just when she was about to tow him down and teach him how to kiss, he dipped his mouth into the curve adjoining her jaw and neck, and he licked his way up, only stopping to hook his sinful tongue onto the industrial barbell on her ear. She shivered.

Soon after, the two of them were naked and bare against each other. The burning sensations from their touches went ten times more amplified in the absence of anything between them.

The city lights sneaked in through the windows, faintly illuminating their bodies in shades of blue.

Oliver positioned himself between her legs, pulling one of her calves up. From there, his lips ghosted down, lower and lower—to the back of her knee, the inside line of her thigh, and finally right where she wanted him. Surely but gently, he slid his fingers inside her, as his tongue laved on her wet skin right above.

She whimpered his name in ecstasy, her hips jerking at regular intervals as he teased her with the softest of touches. High-pitched and breathless, she begged for more, over and over she cried out his name. Her muscles tensed with each second that passed, more and more her breathing grew labored. With his free arm, he pinned her down by her hip, securely keeping her in place as she began to move involuntarily. And after one last pleasured cry, she came down crashing.

Oliver let her catch her breath, lazily kissing her abdomen.

"Felicity?" he murmured her name.

Peering through her eyelashes, Felicity hummed.

"Talk to me."

"Let's you and I switch places," she said languidly, a thick haze still in her brain. "As in I give you mindblowing orgasm. Let's see if  _you_  could talk."

He chuckled. "I'm trying to ask you if you're sure about this. I don't want you to think I'm going too fast."

She breathed out a frail laugh. "Oh-hoh-oh. No backsies. Finish what you started, Queen."

After one quick motion, his face was buried in her neck again. His breath made her tremble as he spoke, although she wasn't sure if it was that or the sound of his voice dropping terrifyingly deep. "Felicity."

Reaching off of the bed for his pants, he pulled a condom from his wallet and slipped it on. And then he was on top of her again.

His lips hovered softly on her jawline.

" _What?_ " she asked in avidity and impatience. "You know, I'm starting to think it's  _you_  who doesn't want th—"

She was cut off with a kiss. A gasp escaped her mouth the moment he was inside her. His lips never left hers, their tongues swirling around one another. And she returned his kisses, just as eager and fervent and breathless, as he thrust in and out of her. Soft moans, whispered names and heated breaths filled the room at first, but were gradually replaced by grunts and curses and shallow huffs of air.

Caressing hands turned into vise grips and raking fingers, kissing into biting, and faster and faster their heartbeats grew, as higher and higher the sensations brought them, until they came off the edge.

Catching their breaths, Oliver pressed his forehead against hers. In the low light, his eyes were shining with a hint of tears. He smiled.

After getting rid of the condom, he collapsed to her side and pulled her into his arms.

She kissed his collarbone, splaying her hand over his chest. "What happened to the douchebag who yelled at me once upon a frat party?"

He sighed. With his arm under her shoulders, he pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. Felicity turned her head up to peck the corner of his mouth. Smiling at her, he spoke.

"He fell in love."

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me. Did you like it? I'd love to hear what you think. :)  
> Please do leave a kudos, if you deem me worthy.  
> Love, Bea. ♥


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